The Rising Force
by Xavier Devereaux
Summary: A work in progress dealing with the rise of the NSF, as well as many other events that have shaped the landscape of the world to which JC Denton is introduced. Rated M for violence, language, and sexuality.
1. Prologue: The Big One

_Author's Note: This chapter is set 22 years before the beginning of the actual game. _

_Disclaimer: Deus Ex is owned by Eidos Interactive and Ion Storm. Kudos to both for creating such an excellent, chronically addicting game. _

**

* * *

San Bernardino, California**

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

Kevin woke up from his deep slumber as a result of the reverberating monotone.

_Time: Six. Zero. Zero. AM. Good Morning, Kevin Roscoe._

"Aw, piss off." Kevin snapped, visibly annoyed by his sudden awakening. He sat up on his bed and attempted to shrug off his current fatigue. Whether it was the constant rioting outside his father's apartment, or the escapades of their boisterous neighbors in the room next door, the teenager rarely received adequate sleep during the night, and it affected him. Despite his intellect, he was barely maintaining a B-minus average at his school, and his father constantly hounded him about this.

"Kevin, are you awake? You better not be jerkin' off in there!" His dad exclaimed from the other side of the door.

"I'm awake, dad." Kevin annoyingly replied.

"You better hurry up. You have a big game tonight, and I want you to eat a good breakfast so you don't end up crapping out in the third quarter like you did against Miller."

His father was of course referring to a game a few months back where he passed out on the field after trying to throw a block against a linebacker twice his size.

Stephen Roscoe was a slightly heavyset man of about forty-five. Born and raised in the latter years of the twentieth century, he clung to the remaining ideals and philosophies that were popular when he grew up. Ideas like capitalism, democracy, and most importantly freedom. Ideologies that had been dead and gone for decades.

A recipient of bad luck, as some would say, the economy spiraled into collapse just as he was beginning adulthood. With nowhere else to turn, Stephen signed up for the Army and was immediately sent to Iraq. His luck would take a turn for the worse, when in his second tour of duty his squad was ambushed and he received multiple gunshot wounds. He was immediately given a medical discharge and sent back to the States. Stephen would always say, when he entertained guests with his war recollections, "Once I got better, Uncle Sam gave me a Purple Heart and a swift kick out the fucking door. God Bless America!"

Though not permanently disabled, he still had trouble finding work. He would have to settle for a job as a lowly factory worker, being paid meager wages. This made it infinitely difficult to raise his son, who was mothered by a young woman he met after leaving the Army. Her death during childbirth only complicated matters.

And so he raised Kevin by himself, despite failed early attempts to bring in a mother figure. And he pushed Kevin to the best of his ability. He shelled out a good chunk of his money to send Kevin to private schooling. He constantly lectured Kevin about maintaining a high grade-point average in order to earn scholarships. And when Kevin went out for football, Stephen became what some might say a football dad. Always criticizing every minute detail of his performance. Regulating his diet and his social life, monitoring his lifestyle to make sure he wouldn't fall into the wrong crowd and end up becoming a zyme fiend within five years.

It continuously ate away at Kevin's nerves, but Stephen knew it was necessary. He wanted his only son to have all the things he never did. To have a future, and not have to settle for becoming a human pin-cushion in the middle of the Iraqi oil fields.

Kevin labored out of his bedroom and into the small living room, where his father was watching a local morning news program.

_...CDC officials are reporting widespread success of the new AIDS vaccine that was made public earlier last month. Already they're pushing for more funding to help continue and improve distribution of the cure. Officials are hoping that the resolution can be incorporated into next year's overall budget._

Kevin looked on from inside the kitchen as the anchors continued.

_In a developing story, geologist are reporting an unusually high level of seismic activity in areas close to the San Andreas fault. A seismic center outside Palm Springs has already registered over fifty small tremors within it's range within the last twenty four hours. Scientists across the Southland right now are declaring this just as a simple anomaly, and should be no cause for concern. However, they are paying extra attention to this occurrence._

_And now, lets head go over to sports, where Gus Leopold is standing by..._

The broadcast continued as Kevin ate his cereal. Stephen's eyes were still glued to the television as sports scores streamed across the television.

"Motherfucker!" Stephen suddenly exclaimed, "The goddamn Raiders choked again!"

"Yeah, Jason called me at like eleven last night to gloat about it." Kevin replied calmly, tough clearly trying to show his displeasure.

"That why you didn't get out here for a half-hour?"

"That and the neighbors having a shooting match next door."

"Buncha' thugs if you ask me. Ain't nobody got any damned respect anymore. I swear this country's going to Hell in a trash bag, if you ask me. The same country I got laced with 7.62's for. The same god-forsaken..." Stephen continued his rant as Kevin walked back into his bedroom to get dressed for the day. After the usual shit, shower, and shave, Kevin grabbed his book bag and headed off to school on his mini-bike.

* * *

**An abandoned alleyway, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest**

"So, we gonna do this?"

"Doesn't look like we have much of a choice."

"It's not about choice. It's about what's at stake here."

"Spare me the rant. It's not like I've been living under a rock the last twenty years."

"All I'm saying is that if we're in, we're in all the way. No turning back."

The other man contemplated for a moment.

"And what if I say no."

"That's on you. No hard feelings. I just hope you're prepared for what happens next."

The anonymous man stared blankly in deep thought as his partner left. Damn it, he knew what was at stake. The only thing he questioned was whether or not it would work.

_Bullshit_, he though to himself. _It didn't matter if it worked or not. Somebody's gotta stand up for what they believe. Nobody ever accomplished anything by wishful thinking._

He thought long and hard about this. He knew what he had to do, and he knew he had to go forward regardless of what happened. He knew at this point that he had nothing to lose.

The man picked up his mobile phone and dialed.

"Yeah?"

"Count me in." he said, hanging up the phone afterwards.

* * *

Kevin had worked three summer jobs to be able to afford his bike, but it was the only transportation he had. The state cut funding for school transportation back in 2024, which left a lot of young kids out in the cold. Many even had to quit school simply because they had no way to get there. Another nail in the coffin for the already dying public education system, along with the privatization of nearly half of previously public schools nationwide.

He pulled into the parking area of Cajon High School and armed the anti-theft mechanism on his bike, which would immediately send fifty-thousand volts of electricity through the body of anyone who tried to steal it. Though highly illegal, it gave him solace to know that he didn't have to rely on the school's half-assed security systems to protect his bike.

Immediately upon entering the school building, he made his way to the commons area to kick back before the school session started. He sat alone, looking over some of his homework while listening to his portable music device, which currently housed over 12,000 songs, many of which were by a band called The Demoralized. They were a neo-thrash/metalcore band that gained a large degree of popularity around 15 years ago, thanks to their tendency to openly speak out against the government and current economic downturn. Though Kevin somewhat sympathized with the lyrics, Kevin listened to them more because their aggressive style helped him get his adrenaline going for big games.

Just as he was reviewing his trigonometry homework, his friend Jason approached his table.

"Yeah, how 'bout them Raiders, bro!" Jason exclaimed as he smacked Kevin on the back and sat down in the chair next to him.

"Here to gloat, I know. You woke my ass up, by the way." Kevin replied.

"Wow, choke job was that bad, huh?"

"Say what you want, your Bolts are still four and six. At least we still have a winning record."

"Calm down, bro. Just messing around." Jason replied, suddenly changing his demeanor in a false attempt to make it seem like Jason was overreacting."

Kevin kept silent.

"So, you ready for the big game tonight?" Jason changed the subject.

"I better be. We win, we make the State Tournament. We lose, and we're fucked."

"Hey dude, you just go out there and kick ass. Break some fuckin' bones, for chrissake! Who knows, maybe you'll end up scoring some trim someday."

_Someday. _Kevin thought. Though he was well liked among the student body, mainly because his promotion to starting running back gave the school hope to finally have a good season, he was extremely shy around girls. This gave his friend endless ammunition to constantly mess with Kevin. For Pete's sake, he was still a virgin!

"Speaking of which, there's your girl." Jason pointed over to a tall, slender brunette in a cheerleader's uniform making her way toward her companions. Her name was Carrie, and Kevin had a huge crush on her dating all the way back to the onset of adolescence.

"Well, go for it dude. Worst she can say is no." Jason nudged him, encouraging Kevin to break the cycle.

"Are you crazy? She says no, all her little girlie friends will humiliate me!" Kevin dodged his friend's assertiveness.

"Dude, she's on the cheerleading squad. You're starting running back. It's a match made in heaven, dude! Plus, she's probably forgotten about what happened at that pool party last summer." Jason smirked, referring to an incident where he had jumped off the diving board into a cannonball and lost his pants, bringing his private parts in full view off every partygoer that was there, including Carrie.

"No way in hell. She wouldn't give me the time of day, regardless if I'm a starter now."

"Man you are such a pussy. See you in Chemistry class." Jason laughed as he headed toward his next class.

_Maybe he's right,_ Kevin thought. _Maybe I am just a pussy_.

Kevin sat still for a moment.

_You know what, screw it! I'll go over there right now. Who cares what her little posse thinks!_

With that, Kevin worked up the courage to finally seal the deal and end the one thing that had been tormenting him since junior high school. Yes, he was finally gonna work up the balls to ask Carrie Jimenez out, and nothing could stop him.

Just as that last thought entered his mind, the five-minute bell rang, warning the students to get to class before the tardy bell rang.

_Fuck! _Kevin silently cursed at the interruption.

_I was so close!_

He continued to curse himself as he made his way toward his first class.

* * *

"_...citizens are already in an uproar as several local police officers were reportedly gunned down in front of this abandoned shopping mall after receiving reports of suspicious activity in the area. Though the identity of the perpetrators is at this time unknown, witnesses report that the assailants were shouting a plethora of slanderous statements against the government before, during, and after the shootings took place. Per the 2029 revision of the Patriot Act, we are prohibited to repeat these said statements..."_

_Polished cunt, _the man thought as he turned off the TV.

"And so it begins." His partner commented.

"With that? A damned media circus? You know all they're gonna do is make us look bad. They have to, it's the fucking law. She even said so herself!"

"Patience, my friend. I have it all figured out."

"How, if I may ask?"

The calmer man reached for his phone and dialed. "This is Cage, get Sanders on the phone right away."

He pressed a button, setting his mobile phone to speaker setting.

"Sanders here. What's the latest sir?" The voice came from the other end.

"What's the status on that video?" Cage inquired.

"Uplink complete sir. I'm uploading on the 'Net as we speak. It should be done by the time this call is over sir."

"Excellent work."

Cage made his way over to a computer and began typing. Immediately a loading screen popped up with the words "Processing Encryption" appeared on the screen. Soon after, a web address bar popped up, in which Cage continued to type.

"_One new message"_

He immediately brought up his inbox, and clicked on the last received message. It showed a video interface, in which Cage hit the play button.

"Come here, my friend." Cage commanded his partner, in the midst of the latter half of a bottle of whiskey.

Cage's partner obeyed and walked over to the computer screen. What greeted him sent a chill up his spine.

The video showed two policemen doing what looked like... _attacking_ two men with riot prods. Though they looked as though they were subdued, one suddenly pulled out a pistol and shot one of the officers in the leg. As the other officer ignored his target and rushed to help his partner, the other victim brandished a knife and promptly slashed the throat of the injured police officer. As he keeled over, the knife-wielder wrapped his arm around the police officer's neck while the pistol-wielder placed his firearm at the side of the officer's head and fired, spraying blood, skin, brains, and bone fragments all over the asphalt. The knife-wielder immediately looked toward a crowd of bystanders, and began to speak.

"_Fellow citizens, what you have seen today is the true colors of our government laid before our very eyes. The men and women sworn to protect us, acting in the manner of the so called 'terrorists' we've been made to fear. _This_ shall not be forgotten. Let our actions be known today, so that one day we can all live in freedom. And when that time comes, we can all cry together in unison 'we shall not die in vain'. Go now, while there's still a chance for redemption."_

The last frame froze at the end of the video clip, depicting the speaker with his fist reached skyward, further conveying his powerful message to it's recipients.

"This was taken by a surveillance recorder in the parking lot. You have Sanders' familiarity with the 'Net to thank for this."

Cage's partner stood motionless with a blank look in his eyes.

"In a few days, this surveillance video will show everybody the truth. That they're all being deceived. Then..."

Leon lit up a cigar, knowing full well what his partner would say next.

* * *

Kevin sat nervously in his desk, keeping his focus on the DigiBoard at the front of his class in order to calm down. He had his homework ready to pass toward the front of the classroom, and could easily answer any question if the teacher decided to put him on the spot. No, Kevin's nervousness had nothing to do with the course study.

It was Carrie. She was sitting right next to him. With the events of the morning fresh in his mind, he continued to play out different scenarios as to how he would strike up a conversation. What was it with this girl? She had occupied almost every single thought in his mind that day, and it was driving him insane. He was unable to concentrate on anything, even as the student behind him tapped him on the shoulder.

"Dude!" The kid yelled, snapping Kevin back to reality.

"Oh, crap. My bad." Kevin apologized and realized that they were passing their homework forward.

"Okay everybody," Mr. McMullen began his lecture for the day, "turn your books to page 196. Today, we're gonna be talking about 'inverse trigonometric functions'".

He wrote the subject on the DigiBoard as he spoke. Mr. McMullen scribbled a few example problems on the board during his lecture, but frankly, Kevin wasn't paying attention. His mind drifted once again to the girl sitting next to him. He went over numerous pickup lines in his head, dismissing all of them for various reasons. He finally settled on, "Hey you wanna go hang somewhere after the game?"Yeah, that would work. He rehearsed it in his mind, so he wouldn't screw it up when the big moment finally came.

_Hey, you_ _wanna go hang out after the game? Hey, you_ _wanna go hang out after the game? Hey, you_ _wanna..._

"Mister Roscoe." His teacher said, carrying his voice across the room. Once again, he was back in reality.

"Yeah." Kevin replied calmly, acting as though he was listening the whole time.

"Do you mind telling us the formula for figuring the secant?"

_Oh crap, _he thought, _if I blow this, I'll end up looking like a complete ass in front of everyone, including Carrie._

_Calm down, _he argued with himself, _just look in the book. Mr. McMullen always teaches this stuff from the book._

He peered down at the text book, and there it was in plain English.

"Divide the hypotenuse by the adjacent side?" Kevin recited the answer.

"Right. As is the current them here, the secant of an angle is the length of the triangle's hypotenuse over the length adjacent to the angle you are working with, contrary to the..." Mr. McMullen continued on with his lecture. _Good save_, Kevin thought to himself.

Kevin found it easier to pay attention after the little scare, but he was still bored out of his mind. He already knew the stuff, so he would probably end up finishing the homework before class was even over. As the lecture concluded, Mr. McMullen wrote the assignment on the board, after which he sat at his desk and began browsing the 'Net. Immediately, a headline caught his eye: "Two officers murdered by suspected terrorists". _Damn, h_e thought, _things really are getting bad. _His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, and he knew exactly who's voice it was.

"Hey Kevin", Carrie whispered as she leaned over, "Could you help me out with some of this?"

_Why I most certainly will. _Kevin said to himself, his inner voice almost resembling the suaveness of James Bond.

"Sure, what's up?" Came his actual reply.

"I'm a little stuck on number eleven. I can't figure out what do do with the reciprocal." She explained as she pointed toward her paper.

_Thank you Jesus, _Kevin thought to himself has he moved over to her desk. Despite his previous anxiety, he began to explain rather fluidly some of the stuff she was doing wrong. It all came easy to him, and as time went on he began to loosen up a little more. Turns out she needed more help that she thought she did, and Kevin was glad to provide it.

This was easier that he thought. Granted, he needed a little help, but he still felt it almost natural to carry on a normal conversation with her. Once they bot finished their homework, they made some small talk, mostly about music. To his surprise, Kevin found out that she was a big fan of The Demoralized, just as he was. They began talking about their favorite songs by the group, and shared a few concert experiences as well. Furthermore, they were both planning on seeing the band in Irvine next spring, and even asked if he wanted to tag along. Of course, he gladly agreed.

The bell immediately rang, cutting off their conversation.

Kevin walked out of the classroom toward the commons area for lunch, when he was stopped by Carrie.

Kevin turned to face her.

"Thanks for the help, Kevin." She kindly thanked him.

"Oh, no problem." Kevin replied.

"Now I know who to go."

"Yeah, I know. You need anymore, just give me a nudge." He said, nudging the air in a cheesy fashion. They both giggled for a split second.

"Well, good luck in the game tonight." She said as she turned away.

Kevin turned for a moment, in awe of what he'd accomplished.

_Yesssssssssssss!_

**

* * *

Later that night**

The mood in the locker room was a somber one at best. An army of pad-laden football players labored to the bench, peeling off their jerseys and spiking their helmets on the ground. Some of them were inspecting injuries from the first half. A large portion of those players would not be back on the field for the second half.

They were down twenty-eight to three, and everything that could go wrong had done so. San Bernardino High had returned two punts for touchdowns, and an interception for the same result. Their only saving grace was a fifty yard pass to Glasson, the tight end, that set up a field goal. Simply put, Cajon was getting it's ass kicked, and the players were none too happy.

Coach Brick stood in the locker room to address his downtrodden team.

"Alright boys," His voice immediately carried across the locker room, "I know it looks like everything has gone to hell, but we've got two more quarters to play. Now I know we made some mistakes in the first half, but take away the three miscues and were only down seven to three. The goal here is simple: You guys have got to buckle down and play a little bit smarter out there! These guys are a good team, and they can't wait to capitalize on our screw-ups. Just continue to play good on defense and we can win this damn thing!

"Now, since we have a few injuries, we're gonna be shaking things up on offense. Roscoe!"

"Yes, coach?" Kevin replied.

"You're gonna be playing a little slot receiver for us. You had some good runs kid, but they're killing our ground game. If we make a few good pass plays, that'll take the pressure off of our backfield. Then we can really smoke 'em. Now, everybody huddle up."

The players all gathered toward the center of the locker room, and reached toward the center of the circle with their right hands. As they all met, the coach yelled, "One, two, three.", in which the circled yelled in unison, "Kick ass and take names!"

They all rushed out of the locker room, rejuvenated and ready to begin the second half. With them was Kevin, contemplating his ability to be such a vital role in the team's attempt at a comeback. He constantly though of failure, and the consequences of that failure. No, he couldn't screw up. Not now, not when his team needed him the most.

He sat on the sideline as the defense took the field. He watched as they continued to rip apart the opponent's effective, yet one-dimensional, running offense. Before he knew it, the defense had forced a punting situation. The punt return team immediately stood up and ran toward the field to line up for the next play. Kevin knew that once this play was over, it was his time to shine.

The previous return had placed them on the better side of the fifty yard line. He stood in the huddle as the quarterback called a play action fake to Dougherty, the fullback. Then he would screen the ball to Kevin.

_Yes, a screen pass. A pass, but really a run. I can do this._

Kevin overlooked the field as the distant snap count reverberated throughout the field. The linebackers were preparing to blitz from the strong side, opposite to where Kevin was lined up. _Perfect, they're doing exactly what I want them to do._ The snap came, and so did the blitz. Dougherty was able to pick up one of the linebackers, but the other was staring Blanche (the quarterback) dead in the eye as he lobbed the ball toward Kevin. He made the catch perfectly and sprinted forward like a speeding bullet. Dodging a tackler, he inched toward the sideline, avoiding another tackle from a cornerback as he moved toward the center of the field. From there he saw... open field. Everyone was behind him, and all he had to was score. He kicked in the afterburners, hearing what he estimated was at least three pairs of footsteps has he soared toward his goal. Ge felt a hand graze his left leg and momentarily stumbled, but regained his speed and continued forward.

"He's at the twenty. The fifteen. Ten. Five. _Touchdown _Cajon!" The PA announcer exclaimed as Kevin was congratulated by his teammates.

As the extra point team made their way on to the field, Kevin headed toward the sideline to be congratulated by the coach.

"Nice play, kid. Don't get cocky though. We still have some ground to make up." Coach Brick provided his criticism.

The next few drives produced little results. San Bernardino did nothing on offense, but at the same time Cajon only scored one more touchdown at the beginning of the fourth quarter. It was off of a deep route to Elder, but the score was still twenty-eight to seventeen in favor of the opposition. Time was running out. They needed a big play, and that's exactly what they received at around the four minute mark.

San Bernardino lined up to punt for the tenth time in the second half. This time, however, things would be different. While Kevin watched on the sideline, there was something different about how everyone was lined up. The ball was snapped, and Bradley sprinted toward the opponent's punter, diving forward as the ball was kicked. _Punt block_. Hernandez scooped up the ball, and sprinted toward the end zone. They were only down by four points with four minutes left. They only needed one more possession to seal the deal.

San Bernardino got the ball back at their forty-three yard line. Kevin was confident that the defense would make a big stop, allowing them to move down the field to make the game winning drive. Those hopes were immediately dashed when San Bernardino completed a pass down to the opposing four yard line. _This can't be happening. They had to make a stop._

Everything was playing in slow motion. The defense had forced a fourth down after two knockdowns and a run on the weak side for no gain. Fourth and goal, the kind of stuff you see in the movies.

The ball was snapped again, being handed off to the opposing running back. Two defensive players struggled to bring him down as he continued to pus toward the end zone. _No! _He chugged forward, every yard that much more difficult as he was brought down at the one-yard line. Turnover on downs. Cajon possession.

"Okay boys," The coach motioned as he began to address the offense, "This is it. We can't screw up now. We have less than three minutes and ninety-nine yards sitting between us and victory. _This _is what's gonna make you guy's heroes, regardless of what you end up doing for the rest of your life. Make them proud." He said as he pointed toward the stands, filled with parents, relatives, and friends of the players.

The offense hustled on to the field to prepare for the next drive. _Just like in the movies_.

They slowly but surely advanced down the field, mixing their play-calling up between running and passing. Kevin made the bulk of the progress, churning out a couple of twenty-yard runs. The result of their efforts placed them at the opponent's thirty yard line with twenty-five seconds to go. Blanche made the play call, which was a five-wide set, all of them going deep.

They lined up, and the ball was snapped into Blanche's hands. Dodging two defensive ends waiting to pound him into the dirt and end their comeback attempt, Blanche sheaved the ball toward Kevin, who was just five yards outside of the end zone. Kevin caught the ball, and immediately pounded through two defensive backs, who mercilessly tossed him down. He was on the two yard line. Eleven seconds left.

Blanche rushed everybody to the two yard line, lined up the play, and stopped the clock by spiking the ball. Four seconds.

Blanche called the huddle together. He had time to call one last play. _I had that touchdown. All I needed was two more yards. _They were still there, the game still going, but Kevin wanted redemption.

"Give me the ball." Kevin interrupted the play call. The huddle fell silent.

"Just hand it off to me, and I'll run it through the middle." He continued.

"Are you sure? Their D-line's arms look bigger than you do!" Blanche replied

"Look, I can do it. I promise."

"You better pull this off, or we're all putting heat rub in your jock after the game. I'm talking a tube at at time. Ready, _break._"

They hustled toward the line. To Kevin, heat rub was the least of his worries. He wanted to be the hero of this game, no matter what it took. It was do or die, everything was at stake if he blew this play. His entire reputation was at stake. And there was also... Carrie. He wanted to impress Carrie.

The ball was snapped. Blanche immediately handed the ball off to Kevin as he sprinted between to lineman. There, he was met by a linebacker, who fought like the bowels of Hell to stop him. Kevin replicated this, pushing with all his might as he inched ever so closer to the end zone. Closer... closer. He felt a kick at his leg as his body fell down. _Oh no, did I make it? I didn't make it, did I? Damn it, we lost! Fuck!_ He looked up at the scoreboard as it read "Visitor: 28, Cajon: 31".

It was over. He had scored the game-winning touchdown and led them to the State Tournament. The fans rushed the field in excitement as the whole team gathered around Kevin to congratulate him.

"You did it!"

"Hell yeah! That was awesome, Kev!"

"You kick ass!"

"Good job, you just made yourself a hero!" Coach Brick patted him on the back as he made his way toward the sideline.

"Nice run." Carrie said to him as she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking him dead in the eye.

"Thank you." He replied, excitement in his voice.

They both stood quiet for what seemed like and eternity.

"Listen," she broke the silence, "I was wondering if..."

"Kevin!" the voice of none other than his dad interrupted Carrie.

"Hold on a minute, dad!" Kevin shouted.

"No, go ahead. I'll wait." Carrie interjected.

Kevin begrudgingly walked over to Stephen, immediately met with a bear-sized hug.

"Jesus Christ, that was better than the 'Hook and Lateral'!" Stephen exclaimed, releasing Kevin.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it." Kevin replied with gratitude.

"Who's your friend?" Stephen inquired, pointing over to Carrie.

"Oh, hold on." Kevin called the girl over, "Dad, this is my friend Carrie. Carrie, Dad."

"Stephen Roscoe." He said as he shook her hand.

"Umm, Kevin." She turned over to the boy, "I was wondering if you wanted to go hang out somewhere."

It was like she'd read his mind in trig class.

"Sure, that'd be great." Enthusiastically, he replied.

He saw his dad strolling away toward the stands. As strict as Stephen was, he had to at least ask if it was cool to go off somewhere with a cute girl. That was one of the things that sucked, and probably was a big reason why he hadn't been laid in the first place.

"Dad!" Kevin said, stopping Stephen in his tracks.

"If you're wanting to know whether or not you and Carrie can go 'hang out'" He made quotation marks with his fingers, "the answer is... _yes_."

Kevin was floored. Dad rarely let him hang out with Jason on a Friday night, let alone a member of the cheerleading squad.

"Go have fun, and be careful." Stephen instructed his son. "One more thing before you go." He said as he reached into his pocket. It was a condom, which he tossed at Kevin.

"Good Luck."

* * *

They were driving on a winding, pitch-black mountain road, navigating the steep hills as the car moved endlessly into the night.

"Where are we going?" Kevin said, breaking the silence.

"Somewhere." Carrie replied.

"And where is that 'somewhere'?" He continued, not satisfied with her previous response.

"It's a secret."

He sighed. Where were they going? He had a feeling that he knew the type of place that they were headed. Somewhere secluded, perhaps, so the could 'fool around'. Though the present situation presented itself that way, he felt that he shouldn't get his hopes up. Not after what history had already showed him.

The car finally stopped on the side of the road, next to a secluded bluff overlooking their hometown. Below them was a dizzying array of street lights, signs, cars, and the like. But what surprised him the most were the stars. They shone brighter than anything he'd ever seen. In awe, he stood dazed by the sheer beauty of it all. As he was looking, he felt a hand grab his, and looked toward Carrie.

"Come on." She said, a seductive tone to her voice.

They walked toward the bluff, and his heart immediately began to pound against his chest, worse than he could immediately recall. He felt sweat trickle down various parts of his body. _This was it_. _My big moment will finally arrive. Tonight, Kevin Roscoe, you will become a man._

"You're really tense." Carrie whispered in a soft, seductive voice. It calmed him a little, but that was nothing compared to what happened next. She leaned toward him, brought her lips toward his, and kissed him. Kevin felt everything melt away, and at that moment is was just Kevin and Carrie. Not a care about the outside world, only what was going on between those two at that very moment. She pulled away and began to pull off the top from her cheerleader's uniform, revealing nothing but a black silk bra. She leaned forward again, continuing to kiss Kevin as his hand began to feel under her bra, caressing her unexposed breast. It felt nice.

Carrie left out a soft moan as he pulled away, reaching his right hand behind her back to undo the clasp to her bra. He succeeded, and Carrie began to slide the straps off of her shoulders.

And as she did, the ground began to shake.

_Violently._

_

* * *

Author's Note: Apologies for the cliffhanger. This chapter was getting long so I had to find a stopping point. Hope to have the next chapter as soon as possible. This is my first fanfic, so constructive criticism – negative and positive - is welcomed and appreciated. _


	2. The Bowels of Hell

_Disclaimer: Deus Ex is owned by Eidos Interactive and Ion Storm. Kudos to both for creating such an excellent, chronically addicting game._**

* * *

Southern California Earthquake Center**

**University of Southern California**

**Three Hours Ago**

"I know, honey. It's hard, but just... bear with me." Ken Chiada begged to the voice on the other line.

"That's what you said last night, and the night before." A female voice responded, clearly agitated.

"I know, I know. _Damn it..._" Ken continued his apologetic tone, "Look, with all the activity that's been going on..."

"You're the only on-staff specialist that's qualified enough to supervise everything. We had this conversation last night, remember."

"Honey, I'm sorry. When this is all over, I _promise _I'll make it up to you."

The other end of the phone was silent.

"Brooke? Are you there?"

"Yes, Ken."

"You heard that last part, right?"

"Yeah, I did. I just hope you have something miraculous planned for missing our anniversary."

"Don't you worry, babe. Talk to you in the morning, sweetie."

"Bye." Brooke said sweetly before hanging up the phone.

_Fuck this_, Ken said to himself as he lit up a cigarette. All this earthquake activity had led to SCEC scrambling at the last minute to find every expert possible to monitor the recent increase in earthquakes along the San Andreas. Ken didn't know what bothered him more: having to blow off a romantic evening on his anniversary or SCEC brass forcing him to keep mum to the public until the 'right time'.

At thirty-four, Dr. Kenneth Chiada was one of the youngest and most brilliant seismologists in the entire world. Graduating with a professional degree from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology at the mere age of twenty-one, Ken was one of the most sought-after consultants dealing with any and all types of geological activity in the entire world. He started working full-time for SCEC at 25, eventually working his way up the ladder until he became Director of Research Operations, also earning a tenured professorship at USC along the way.

Mired in deep thought, Ken puffed on his cigarette, ignoring frequent requests from administrators to refrain from smoking inside his office. Something about all of this didn't sit right with him. Why was he told to keep quiet about all this? Why was all this made to go on in such a clandestine matter.

"Dr. Chiada." The break in silence momentarily startled Ken. It was Riley Welles, one of his most trusted underlings.

"Yes, Riley." Ken replied with his back turned to the doorway, calm despite his train of thought being interrupted.

"We need you in the lab right away."

Ken got up from his seat and made his way down the hall. He meandered his way through the maze of hallways that lined the Research Wing of SCAC, in close tow behind his esteemed colleague. Eventually, he reached the laboratory. The lab was home to a plethora of computerized seismic instruments, tables, charts, data recorders, and technicians. They all labored fervently, looking over their respective stations in a meticulous manner, almost as if their current projects had induced a state of catatonic trance within them.

"Okay," Riley continued, "These are the seismic charts from most of the stations along the San Andreas." Riley handed Ken a long ribbon of paper out of one of the printers, displaying seismic recordings from El Centro all the way to Stockton. "Within the last few hours, they all show an alarming trend. Since around four this evening, the frequency of seismic activity has continued to grow exponentially, and it seems to be doing so almost on a semi-hourly basis."

"Any increases in intensity?" Ken inquired.

"No sir. All of them, save for reports from a few desert cities, have registered under the three-point mark on the Richter Scale."

Ken stood in silence. _What the blue Hell was going on, _he thought to himself.

"Sir?" Riley attempted to regain his attention, "Sir, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Ken finally spoke, "I'm thinking about what we should do."

"Well, I recommend we furnish a report of our findings, detailing a solid course of action to be given to the authorities."

"No, we can't do that. We don't have enough time to go through all the formal bullshit. With what we've seen, these quakes are only going to get worse in both magnitude and frequency. We need to alert the public..."

"Doctor, Mr. Seiling has stated multiple times that..."

"To Hell with Seiling!" Ken interjected, "Right now the public needs to know what they're up against, so they can take precautions. I know predicting this things, with all the space-age technology we have here, is still by-and-large a crapshoot, but our data _clearly_ shows that a major event is brewing right before our very eyes. If Edward Seiling is too much of an imbecile to realize this, then in all honesty his wishes are at best secondary to the safety and well-being of the tens of millions of people lining the California coasts!"

The onlookers, including Riley, stood silent and dumbfounded by Ken's fit of rage. Dr. Chiada was usually a very level-headed and methodical man. Outbursts like this were uncharacteristic of him.

"I'll be in my office if anyone needs me." Ken said in a calmer tone, yet still showing his anger.**

* * *

Barstow Seismic Station**

Elkworth recoiled as the tremors interrupted the calm, California night. Despite the adrenaline rush he experienced after being in the business for God-knows-how-many years, he managed to gain his composure, promptly glancing at the computer screen that recorded the details of the current seismic event.

ACTIVITY DETECTED AT 22341808112030

RECORDING DATA

22342108112030 SUSTAINED MAGNITUDE: 4.5

22342208112030 SUSTAINED MAGNITUDE: 4.7

22342308112030 SUSTAINED MAGNITUDE: 5.0

22342408112030 SUSTAINED MAGNITUDE: 5.4

22342508112030 SUSTAINED MAGNITUDE: 5.8

22342608112030 SUSTAINED MAGNITUDE: 6.3

22342708112030 SUSTAINED MAGNITUDE: 7.0

"Holy shit!" Elkworth exclaimed.

"Elks, we just got a call from Central Valley and Modesto." Rice relayed to his partner, "They're recording similar activity."

"Eight points!" Elkworth stared at the screen in awe of what the was beholding.

"Victor Valley just called in, there getting almost identical readings!" Dorris yelled.

"Eight-point-five. Son of a bitch, this is a big one!"

"Elks, screw the readings, we have to leave now! The building's gonna collapse!"**

* * *

Mayor's House**

**Los Angeles**

The violent rumbling awoke Mayor Michael Driscoll from his deep slumber.

"Honey?" His wife awoke as well, a look of terror in her eyes.

"Grab the kids!" the mayor exclaimed, "We're heading to the kitchen!"

Amanda Driscoll rushed out of the room as her husband darted outside of the master bedroom, rushing down the stairs in to the mansion's cavernous kitchen. His wife appeared moments later with Mike's two young daughters.

"Everybody under the table!" The mayor shouted over the deafening roar. The foursome huddled under the spacious kitchen table in the adjacent dining room.

Terrified, they joined hands for dear life.

* * *

Immediately at the onset of the earthquake, all of the technicians scrambled fervently under tables and inside doorways, shielding themselves from harm's way. The earth quivered before their very feet as they huddled around their respective locations, stricken by silence.

"Here she comes." Ken said in a deep, grainy tone.

* * *

"Kevin," Carrie said, a look of terror coming over her, "What's happening?"

"We need to find open ground, now!" Kevin shouted, "Come on!"

"I'm scared!" Carrie exclaimed, her seductive demeanor instantly cast aside by sheer terror. Kevin instantly sought to comfort the girl, her bare chest still exposed as a result of their prior endeavors.

"Look, I know you're scared," Kevin shouted over the deafening roar of Mother Earth's fury, "But our best bet right now is to keep as calm."

"Calm, are you kidding me? The fucking ground's been shaking for the last two minutes and you expect me to _keep calm_? Do you even know what the fuck's going on right now, Mr. Albert Einstein?" Carrie continued, a river of tears streaming from her face. In a fit of rage, she managed a futile attempt to wrestle free of Kevin's comforting grasp. He simply doubled his efforts until she finally gave in, sobbing loud enough to where it nearly drowned out the painful groans of the ongoing tremor.

"Shh, shh..." Kevin held her head to his shoulder, and spoke softly into her ear, "Carrie, you have to listen to me. If we want to survive, we have to trust each other, but more important is that we have to keep our heads up and not freak out. Can you do that for me?"

Carrie pulled her head away, her eyelids as black as night from smeared mascara, and nodded.

"Now follow me to that meadow! The best thing to do is to find open ground!"

Kevin darted toward a spacious field adjacent to their bluff, Carrie keeping in close tow to her companion. She didn't know why, but she suddenly felt safe around him. She had always seen Kevin as the shy, yet well-mannered kid who wanted nothing more than to be accepted amongst his fellow peers. At times, he seemed a little desperate, but that was far from out of the ordinary for a sixteen year-old boy.

The only real problem she had was that he just seemed like he lacked the confidence to take charge of a situation. Carrie had always suspected that Kevin had a thing for her. He showed it quite a few times, no matter how hard he tired to conceal it. He rarely said more than a few casual words to her, often times completely avoiding conversation for reasons she just couldn't figure out. But something was different about him today. A completely different side of Kevin Roscoe showed when he helped win that football game. Those same traits were continuing to unfold as the night went on.

"Watch out!" Kevin screamed, swiftly tackling Carrie to the ground. Moments later, a massive boulder fell to the ground not fifteen feet from where they were laying down. Kevin poked his head back up, surveying his surroundings as the boulder rolled down to the hills below. Carrie simply looked up at him, her fear beginning to subside as she reached for Kevin's hand. Aware of this, he focused toward her, looking her dead in the eye.

"Thank you." Carrie displayed her gratitude for being pulled from the clutches of death.

"No problem." Kevin replied, a smile beginning to break through his stoic shell.

They both decided to remain in their current state, as the restless jostling pressed on.

* * *

Dr. Chiada remained curled up in a ball under a computer desk as the earthquake raged on, the laboratory's occupants collectively holding their breath until it subsided. The quake seemed like it would never end, giving the terrified lab technicians reason to believe the bowels of Hell were opening, waiting to swallow their unsuspecting souls into Oblivion.

The shaking force eventually subsided, restoring calm once more. Ken crawled from under his desk, rising to his feet to take stock in the resulting damage. The laboratory was devastated. Computers and instruments were destroyed, shattering into a million pieces as the vibration cast them into the floor below. Negligible items, garbage and debris littered the floor. Part of the roof had collapsed, giving in under the immense strain placed upon it. The wall around it had crumbled into nothing, leaving a gaping hole in the laboratory that exposed them to the outside as well as surrounding rooms.

Ken peeked through the hole into the outside, witnessing widespread destruction as far as his eyes could see. It was as though the entire city of Los Angeles had been struck by a nuclear bomb. A faint sound of pandemonium could be heard around him, but he paid little attention to it. All Ken could do was stand still, in awe of what he beheld.

"My god." The words slipping out of his mouth in a faint whisper.

* * *

"Carrie?" Kevin brushed his companion in an attempt to regain her attention. Long after the earthquake ceased, Carrie laid still on the grass, curled up in the fetal position. "Carrie, it's over. The quake stopped. You can get up now." He spoke to her in a calm voice as he brushed the girl's raven-colored hair to reveal her still tear-drenched face.

Rising to his feet, Kevin helped Carrie off of the ground. They both headed toward the car, remarkably still intact and standing still on the bluff that overlooked San Bernardino. As he strolled toward the bluff, Carrie keeping in close proximity despite stumbling in a slight zig-zag manner due to shock, he reflected on the events of the evening. Fir the first time in his life, he felt like a leader and not a follower. Here he was, swallowing his fear and shouldering the responsibility of not only his own life, but Carrie's as well. Was he finally growing the proverbial balls that his father, his coach, and his best friend spoke of? Or was it simply because she was a pretty girl and he was just trying to show off?

Kevin belayed that thought as he opened the passenger-side door of the alcohol-driven vehicle. Though hydrogen-fueled, gravitationally-driven cars were becoming more commonplace, wheel-based automobiles were still in abundance.

Carrie fumbled with the code stick for her vehicle, still shaking fervently over the terror she had experienced. After three futile attempts at trying to place the stick into it's respective slot, she doubled over the steering-wheel, dropping the code stick on the floorboard as she drowned in tears once again.

"Carrie, would it be better if I drove?" Kevin responded.

She kept tight-lipped, still crying.

"Look, I'll drive us down the hill, if that's alright with you."

Carrie still lacked a verbal response, instead reaching for the code key and handing it to Kevin. After allowing Carrie into the passenger seat, Kevin climbed into the driver's side, started the car, and began the journey back into the populated areas of San Bernardino. While he was driving, she managed to slip her bra back on, which she picked up on the way to her car. As they meandered down the treacherous mountain road, Kevin took his time in observing the damage done by the upheaval. Trees and fallen boulders from above littered the road, making it next to impossible for Kevin to navigate his way to the valley.

"Where are we going?" Carrie regained her composure once again.

"We need to find a sat-relay phone, but more importantly we need to get off this mountain." Kevin outlined his plan. He feared that the hills had become unstable, and therefore thought that their better chance of survival lay in the valleys below. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his father was alive, and he was almost certain Carrie felt the same way about her family. Kevin's father was a hard-ass, sometimes just a plain-old ass, but he couldn't let that come between them. Stephen was the only family Kevin knew, and he would be damned if he let a few petty squabbles lead to a death sentence being dealt to his father.

Desperate to find answers, Kevin turned on the NetRadio receiver. As expected, every audible channel was relaying up-to-the-minute accounts of the earthquake.

"_...As you can see behind me, there is nothing but unimaginable destruction caused by this event. Calls are pouring into public offices responsible for just about every city affected by this earthquake, which persisted for an unusually long period of time. Early reports chart the quake on the Richter Scale as an eight-point-seven magnitude earthquake. On an interesting note, this was not simply an isolated event, as early feeds depict several quakes affecting almost the entire California coast, showing magnitudes ranging from small tremors to gigantic, violent upheavals such as the ones witnessed in cities throughout the Southland."_

"_Thank you, Joseph. We now go live to Kirsten Marks, reporting from our Inland Empire bureau."_

"_I'm currently standing in downtown Riverside, where the streets are littered with debris from collapsed high-rise buildings located in this part of town. As of right now, it is being recommended that citizens trying to leave the area should do so on foot, as traffic is at a standstill due to a combination of blocked roads and a simple rush to leave the city. However, just a few yards behind me you can see that order is deteriorating rapidly. Looters are already scavenging the ruins for goods, and so far they've been malicious in their efforts. Early reports confirm that riots are breaking out all over the Inland Valleys, adding to the feeling of anarchy in the aftermath of the devastation."_

"Great, now they tell us." Kevin showed his annoyance.

The radio broadcast faded in and out as he eventually reached the city, weaving through the traffic with reckless abandon. Most of the vehicles around him were in a mad dash to get on the freeways leading out of San Bernardino, therefore leaving his path unabated.

"Kevin, watch out!" Carrie exclaimed out of the blue.

He looked up to see a sudden stop in city traffic. Unable to stop in a timely manner, several cars in front of him collided into each other. A massive pile-up ensued as Kevin fought desperately to maintain control of the automobile before sliding to a stop mere inches from the car in front of them. Bot passenger and driver alike were visibly shaken from their narrow death, but were able to maintain enough to exit the car. They continued their journey on foot, Carrie tightly grabbing the waist of her counterpart. Kevin slowed to a dead stop when he realized what he was standing next to.

Before him was a large crack in the earth – almost four-feet across.

* * *

Ken took in the scene of utter bedlam around his present location. The general populace that inhabited the University of Southern California campus demonstrated the same feeling of pandemonium experienced all across Southern California. The data sheets his partner procured from the remains of the laboratory showed the earthquake to be pushing the nine-point range. Only a few times in recorded history had a convulsion that immense occurred anywhere in the world. And now, it was California's turn. Ken's shock only worsened when his stroll outside the SCAC building was interrupted by a sharp stumble.

He looked down, beholding a wide crevasse that reached down as far as his eyes could see.

"Riley, come look at this!" Ken yelled frantically to his subordinate.

"Yes sir?" Riley obliged as Ken followed the path of the crevasse.

Ken remained silent, but nevertheless meticulous in his demeanor as they both followed the cracks for what seemed like an eternity. They all varied in size and shape, but they must have conveyed something to Dr. Chiada that was of some importance to him. He endlessly studied the cracks in the ground, looking in every direction and pointing his hand in sync.

"Do you see this?" Ken finally uttered.

"What's going on?" Riley inquired, feebly attempting to keep up with his superior's complicated train of thought.

"_Fissures,_" Ken whispered into the air, "They're all over the place."

Riley stood dumbfounded before Ken, unable to muster a response.

"I should have known. I can't believe I didn't see this earlier." Ken continued, looking off into the distance, "All those little minuscule tremors... they weren't warnings. They were Mother Nature's failed attempts to achieve where the 'Big One' succeeded. There's no way in Hell we would have been able to alert the people in time, not after what's happened here. No, this was destiny at play. Nature has a way of inciting change, regardless of how many lifeforms become casualties. And this is only step one."

"I'm not sure I follow you." Riley said as Ken's gaze returned to his colleague, "Are you saying that these fissures are the beginning of a..." Riley was terrified to finish the sentence, "...volcanic eruption? Not just one, but multiple eruptions?"

Ken's eyes returned to the horizon, "Maybe. Or maybe much worse."

* * *

Kevin climbed over the mounds of debris littering the streets that headed toward his destination. Carrie still clung to him, like a young bear cub that was too afraid to leave it's mother. She had remained surprisingly calm throughout the ordeal, even after coming within a hair-width of becoming involved in a violent wreck. Not to mention a few uneventful, but nonetheless nerve-racking, encounters with the raucous denizens of San Bernardino, looking to use the disaster as an excuse to raise even more fervor.

"Can I ask where the Hell we're going?" Carrie asked once more.

"My friend Jason lives a few blocks from here. My place is too far on foot, with all the crazies." Kevin replied.

Carrie exhibited mixed emotions about their journey. She had always known Jason Pollard as Kevin's rambunctious tag-along. All he ever did was talk, rambling along in a desperate attempt to make himself look admirable amongst his peers. His attempts often failed, and at times even managed to bring down his best friend. A common example was how he always brought up the pool party incident, where Kevin lost his swimming shorts in the pool and exited unaware of this fact, showing his private parts to every single party guest. What Jason always failed to mention, however, was how in that same night he became so inebriated that he vomited on the coffee table. Carrie silently chucked at this recollection.

"There it is." Kevin pointed at a random house a short distance away. He walked up to the door and hammered fervently on the hardwood door. "Let's home somebody's alive in there." After an extended period of time, and more knocks on the door, the entry finally swung open.

"Whoa, dude!" Jason appeared, "Christmas is still a few weeks out, but thanks anyway!"

Carrie looked down at herself, only now realizing that, from all the tension, her right breast was exposed. She immediately shot Jason a nasty look.

"Calm down on the jokes, man." Kevin reprimanded his friend, "We need your NetPhone."

"Okay, but good luck finding it. Kitchen's trashed." Jason replied, his eyes intermittently gazing at Carrie's bared undergarment.

"That's fine, whatever. We just need a place to chill for a while. She's sill a little shaken up." Kevin continued, simultaneously attempting to cover up Carrie.

"Not a problem." Jason said slowly, even more focused on Carrie.

"Will you fucking _stop_ that?" Carrie snapped, her outburst startling Jason.

"Stop what? I didn't do anything?" Jason replied, feigning innocence.

"Oh, don't be so blameless." The angered girl continued, "Your eyes have been locked on my chest since you opened the door, you sick bastard!"

"Look, do you have any extra shirts we can borrow?" Kevin interjected.

"Why do you need a shirt? She's perfectly fine without one!" Jason replied light-heartedly, laughing in an idiotic manner.

"Yes or no, Jason?" Kevin went to a sharper tone.

"Yes, I have a shirt. Look in the closet in my room."

"All I was asking, genius."

Kevin headed toward the bedroom, Carrie storming behind. As she walked by Jason, she rolled her eyes and held her middle finger to his face.

_So cold_, thought Jason as she moved past him.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Carrie finally unloaded her displeasure.

"I can't believe that fucking _pervert_ would have the balls..." Carrie growled, unable to finish her rant.

"Doesn't look like we have much of a choice," Kevin tried to change the subject while thumbing through the closet's contents, "It's all death metal, cartoon characters, goofy sayings, and San Diego Chargers."

"I don't care." Carrie replied, still fuming, "Just as long as he doesn't have the pleasure of seeing my tits again."

"Here we go." Kevin pulled out an old University of Southern California jersey, handing it to Carrie, who immediately put it on.

"Thank you."

"I know Jason's a total jerk-off most of the time..."

"Then why do you hang out with him?" Carrie interrupted.

"Because..." Kevin thought for a moment, "Because sometimes, it's kinda funny to see him make an ass out of himself. Plus, as much as I can't believe I'm saying this, he's pretty much the only friend I've got."

"Oh..."

"Look, just kick back for a little bit. I'll try to get a hold of my dad and see if he can help us out of the time being."

"Okay." She settled down and kissed Kevin on the forehead. Their eyes locked on to each other for a moment, which to Kevin seemed like a lifetime. She was smiling. Not in the way that sometimes managed to crack through her terrified manner, quickly disappearing as soon as they began. No, this one was prolonged. Her hand slid closer to Kevin's, locking in a soft grip as she leaned toward him.

"Found a phone." Jason suddenly barged in, interrupting what was going on.

"Okay, thank you." Kevin acknowledged, taking the phone from Jason's hands.

"_De nada. _Need anything else, like a beer or a toke or something?"

"No, we're fine."

"Alright then. I'll leave you two love birds alone."

Jason left the room and shut the door.

"Asshole." Carrie muttered under her breath as Kevin began dialing a number.

"Come on, pick up pick up _pick up,_" Kevin said frantically as the phone rang on. He finally heard it pick up after a few rings.

"Hello?" Came the voice on the other end.

"Dad?" Kevin said.

"Kevin? Holy shit, Kevin! Are you alright?" Stephen exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm fine, dad. I'm over at Jason's right now. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'm a little banged up, but nothing serious."

"Good to hear. How's everything look?"

"Aw, the neighborhood's trashed. I think you're better off where you're at right now. I'll be fine here."

"No, dad. I'm coming, right now."

"Don't worry about it, seriously. I can hold out. You still have your lady friend with you?"

"Yeah she's here, safe and sound."

"Just take care of her right now. I'll be alright."

"No, dad! I'm not gonna l..."

Kevin was cut off as his worst fear was realized.

Another earthquake began anew.

* * *

The incessant rumbling returned once more, this time rippling through with what seemed like double the ferocity of what they were before. Dr. Chiada stood relatively still while his partner scurried to safety. Once more, Ken was awestruck by this display of nature he beheld.

"She's back." He whispered, "Back to finish what she started."

* * *

"Kevin!" Carrie screamed at the top of her lungs as he pulled her to the doorway, holding on to her for dear life.

"Don't worry, I'm here." Kevin comforted her as they huddled inside the door frame.

"Make it stop, please!" She continued to shout, her fearsome cries returning in force.

"Shh... it's alright, I'm here. I'll keep you safe."

"I don't wanna die."

"Me neither."

_Doesn't seem like either of us have a choice, _Kevin thought to himself as the quake raged on. It was definitely worse that the previous one, that much was true. It trudged on like the tantrum of a spoiled child, the earth itself groaning in pain for what seemed like forever. This was no random event. Cataclysmic occurrences like this don't just happen at random. Kevin believed that this was the apocalypse at hand, the end of all things. The last sound he heard was that of Carrie yelling his name before everything around him went black.

* * *

**The White House**

**0307, Eastern Standard time**

President McCauley awoke from his deep sleep to the sound of his bedside phone ringing. He reached for it in the dark, slamming the nightstand multiple time before finally grabbing the receiver.

"POTUS here." McCauley spoke, groggy from his sudden awakening.

"Mr. President," The voice of one of his assistants responded, "We need you in the Oval Office right away, it's urgent."

"Fine, just let me get changed."

"Sir, there's no time. This is utmost priority."

President McCauley hung up the phone and pulled himself out of bed. He reached for his robe and left his bedroom, starting down the winding halls that led him to his office. He eventually barged into the oval-shaped room, only to be greeted by several high-level individuals dressed in expensive suits. The mood inside was somber, and McCauley could only imagine why they waoke him from his slumber.

"Mr. President, I'm Donald Shaver from FEMA." The man greeted him by shaking his hand, "We have a situation in California."

"What's the problem?" McCauley looked upon the man with a somber look in his eyes.

"Sir, we've received word that Southern California is being bombarded by a volley of devastating earthquakes."

Robert McCauley looked Shaver dead in the eye, concealing a state of shock.

"The quakes," Shaver continued, "Are all lined along the San Andreas fault line, going from the Salton Sea all the way to the Bay Area. It get's worse, though. So far, the earthquakes have come in two separate waves. The first, occuring at approximately 2315 Pacific and registering around the nine-point range. If that's not bad enough, the second wave registered twenty minutes ago, and several have hit the ten-point mark."

McCauley was dumbstruck. He let the news settle in before mustering a response, "Put me through to FEMA's office out there. See what we..."

"Sir, I'm afraid I can't do that yet." Shaver interjected,

"And why the hell not?" McCauley exclaimed, chastising Shaver's apparent incompetence.

"Mr. President, the second wave is still underway."

* * *

Ken Chiada stood still as the monstrous cataclysm rumbled on. As everyone else around him scurried off to safe havens, he remained. His arms outstreched, he closed his eyes and pointed his head skyward, embracing the terror of it all. At his feet, the ground began to sink. Slowly at first, but then it increased more and more as the earthquake raged on. It was as though the bowels of Hell were opening their jaws once more to claim another unclean soul. Dr. Chiada couldn't have been more content. He knew he couldn't fight the inevitable, no matter how hard he tried to prolong his meaningless life. No matter what, Mother Nature held the trump card.

Ken let out a manical laugh as the earth below him plummeted, sending him into his ultimate freefall.

* * *

_"Kevin?"_

_What was that?_

_"Dude, oh fuck!"_

_Am I alive?_

"Kevin, please wake up!" He heard a familiar, saddened voice. _Carrie._

Kevin slowly opened his eyes to see two familiar faces looking down at him.

"Kevin! Oh thank God you're alive!" The female joyously exclaimed.

He simply lay there for a moment, dazed and confused. Slowly, everything came back to him. He knew he was at Jason's house, but he couldn't immediately recall why Carrie was with him.

"What happened?" Kevin groaned.

"The door frame collapsed," She answered, "You've been knocked out for the last few hours."

"Oh." He replied, looking up to see nothing but sky. Everything around him was destroyed, the house he was inside of reduced to rubble. At that moment, things came back to him. He remembered the bluff, the earthquakes, the entire night, and feeling the sudden smack of a solid object hitting him in the head before losing consciousness. It was enough to make him believe he was dead.

"I'm so glad you're still alive." Carrie said as she stroked his cheek, a tear leaving the corner of her eye.

"Same here." He replied.

Jason walked toward what used to be the living room while Kevin struggled to his feet. Carrie held him around the waist, looking him dead in the eye, just like she had done when they both were sitting on Jason's bed. Slowly, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. Not like she had done when they were on the bluff. This was more romantic, and not just the workings of a teenaged girl with raging hormones.

"Guys, come look at this!" Jason interrupted once more.

Carrie helped Kevin to where Jason was standing in a dead halt, a lit cigarette burning away at his feet. As they made their way toward Jason's vantage point, they beheld a chilling image.

Carrie's jaw dropped to the floor, as Kevin could do not even that. Instead he froze in place, marveled at what he saw in the distance at what used to be the western half of San Bernardino.

_Water_.

* * *

_Author's Note: Another long chapter, but hopefully more eventful than the prologue. Hope you all enjoyed, reviews are still welcome. __EDIT: 1/2/08 - Slight revision to the part where Jason is googling at Carrie. With credit going to Sig220's review, the original obviously didn't make that much sense, so I reworked some small tidbits while keeping the overall effect. _


	3. Enter Chaos

_Disclaimer: 1.) Deus Ex is owned by Eidos Interactive and Ion Storm. Kudos to both for creating such an excellent, chronically addicting game_. _2.) SPECIAL ADVISORY: Contains disturbing scenes._

_

* * *

_**Presidential Address**

**0947 Eastern Standard Time**

"_We bring you live to President E. Robert McCauley, who will now address the nation."_

"Good Morning, my fellow Americans. Tragedy has struck our West Coast. Those of you watching this who have been awakened from their slumber are undoubtedly seeking answers. As horrific as these said answers are, I feel it is my duty to inform you all of which has taken place.

"At approximately 2330 West Coast time, the great state of California was struck by a series of earthquakes epicentered along the San Andreas Fault line. This wave managed to bring untold destruction reaching from the Mexican Border all the way to the San Francisco Bay. As devastating as these natural phenomena were, they were only a footnote to what was to be subsequent.

"Forty-five minutes after the initial wave, a second string of earthquakes occurred along the same fault line at a much greater magnitude. Adding to the devastation of their predecessors, these monstrosities cracked the very foundation of the terrain of certain affected areas of the initial wave. The result led to a large chunk of Southern California to be... to be plunged... into the waters below. In addition, the effects of the second wave have reached far inland, causing severe damage in Seattle, San Francisco, Phoenix, Las Vegas, and Salt Lake City.

"As more information pours in by the second, whether directly to us or through Internet-2 broadcasts across the United States, it is clear that this has become the greatest natural disaster in our nation's history. Plans are already in place for a joint relief operation spearheaded by FEMA and our nation's military personnel. Great care will be taken to ensure that all areas affected by the earthquakes will have their needs met in a timely fashion.

"Rest assured, my fellow Americans: The United States of America will use it's best efforts to help the recovery, as it is obvious that it has affected much of the western U.S. We will rise from this disaster of historic proportions and emerge as strong in our resolve as we have ever been. My personal thoughts and prayers go out to not only the victims of this tragedy, but all those who are close to them. May God watch over you during this time of tribulation. Thank you."

* * *

The three youth were huddled around a makeshift campfire close to the ruins of Jason's house. The sun crept over the California horizon as morning greeted the shocked denizens of San Bernardino. The daylight revealed the true magnitude of what had transpired. Every house, building, power pole, and road was reduced to rubble. Piles of rock, wood, and steel were all that remained of the city.

Neither of them were able to get adequate sleep. Jason lent his services by keeping up the fire, which he made by scrounging up some frame material from the house and igniting it using gasoline. Though Carrie protested heavily, fearing an explosion comparable to the Hiroshima bomb, he made no effort to find an alternative.

Carrie spent the night looking after Kevin's head injury. It turned out, the blow he sustained from the collapsing door frame gave him a moderate concussion. Fearing for his health, she stayed awake herself, scavenging for ice from a nearby house, whose fridge was still surprisingly intact.

As Carrie comforted Kevin, Jason lit up a cigarette.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Carrie scolded Jason for blowing smoke in her direction. She never liked cigarettes, often leaving the area if so much as one person lit up a cigarette within her general vicinity.

"What?" Jason replied nonchalantly.

"You blew that right in my face!" Carrie continued to chastise Jason.

"And?" Jason said, now annoyed from her complaining.

"_And?_ You could at least have a little bit of respect and do that somewhere else!"

"You know what, kiss my ass! Last I checked, there aren't any 'No Smoking' signs around here!"

"Yeah, but you could at least do a favor to the _non_-smokers in the area and keep your cancer-ridden lungs to yourself!"

"Fuckin' piss off already!"

"Typical. Even when our hometown is a trash pile, you still insist on acting like an asshole."

"You know what, fuck you!" Jason stood up, "You have no right to talk because you've been a total bitch since all this shit happened. Now, I know you're pissed 'cause Mother Nature kept you from getting your rocks off, but for Christ's sake don't..."

Upon hearing his attacking words toward her intended tryst, Carrie stood up and walk toward Jason. In one swift motion, she slapped him across the cheek. Jason simply placed his hand over his face, recoiling over what just happened. Carrie sat next to Kevin once again, placing his head on her shoulder.

"I see how it is. I'm the whipping boy here. Well, fuck the both of you!" Jason walked over and held his middle finger up at Kevin and Carrie, "I'm heading down the street to scavenge up a beer."

Jason stormed down the street while the other two sat in front of the campfire.

"Sorry about that." Carrie said in a calmer tone.

"Don't worry about it. He'll calm down." Kevin consoled her.

"I just can't believe this. Even now, all he wants to do is run his mouth." Carrie continued.

Kevin remained quiet, still dazed from his injuries.

"I don't know. I guess I shouldn't have said anything."

"He'll cool off. Don't worry about it."

They sat quietly in front of the fire, absorbing the heat being radiated from it. As Kevin seemed to stare off into space, she couldn't help but again recount everything that had transpired. Her mind immediately drifted off toward her family. She wondered about whether or not they survived the earthquakes, as she didn't know how much of the city was now underwater.

Carrie lived with her grandmother in the northern part of the city. She was the oldest of three children and lived a relatively uneventful life despite losing her parents at an early age. Her father was killed in a peace-keeping operation in the Middle East. Unable to deal with the death of her spouse, Carrie's mother took her own life, leaving three children under the care of their maternal grandparents. They set aside a large sum of money to keep her in school after Cajon High went private.

A tear streamed down her face as she looked into the distance. From her vantage, it was virtually obvious her neighborhood was one of many who had fallen victim to the submersion of Southern California. Her worst fears had been realized.

"What's wrong?" Kevin looked up at her.

"Nothing." She slowly mustered a reply, hoping to conceal her sadness. She knew she had to keep her composure. She was sick of being scared. The only way she could survive this was not to dwell. She knew she eventually would have to move on. But it was gonna be hard. Every aspect of her life was now gone, and that gnawed at her resolve more than the realization that she was an orphan once more.

Carrie's train of thought was suddenly interrupted by Jason, who had returned from his short walk with a forty-ounce bottle of beer. He sat down in his initial spot by the fire, avoiding any interaction with his two companions. The air was still thick with the tension from their previous argument. Both parties refused to do so much a look at one another, let alone attempt to start a peaceful conversation.

"Looks like one of us finally decided to crash out." Jason broke the long, eerie silence.

"What?" Carrie replied, still showing animosity toward Jason. Ignoring her displeasure, Jason pointed at Kevin, who was in a deep slumber. "Oh no. Kevin?" Carrie panicked, shaking Kevin's seemingly lifeless body in an attempt to revive him. It was to be futile; he slumped on to Carrie's lap and continued to lay still.

"Kevin, please wake up!"

* * *

**Olympia, Washington**

Leon peered outside the window of his fifth-story apartment overlooking the streets of Olympia. The SoCal quakes from earlier that morning reached as far north as Canada, and the Pacific Northwest was one of the regions outside of California that had received monumental damage from the quakes. Though Olympia was for the most part intact, the disaster was enough to cause widespread panic. Civil unrest occurred immediately after the quakes struck and continued into dawn, showing no signs of subsiding. As Leon's family awoke from the long night, the were greeted with the chaos building at the doorstep of their apartment building.

"Good Lord. Myra," Leon frantically motioned to his young wife, "Come look at this!"

Myra casually walked to the window, greeted by the images laid before her. "Oh my God!" she gasped, "They all lost their damn minds!"

"Babe, get Gabriel and bring him into the bedroom!" Leon motioned to his wife as he headed to the closet, the place in which he kept a Bryco 9mm handgun.

"Gabriel honey, come with me!" Myra walked over to her seven year-old son, his attention devoured by a computer game.

"Wait a second, I'm down by a touchdown. If I beat the Redskins then I'll..." Gabriel complained, cut short by the urgency of his mother.

"Sweetie, there's no time for that. We gotta go now!" Myra continued her efforts to wrestle Gabriel from the computer.

"But mommy, I'm about to make the Super Bowl!"

"Young man, stop this right now! Do not disobey me!"

The mother and son were interrupted by a loud thump at the door. Immediately they recoiled, Myra clutching Gabriel in her arms. The slow, deliberate banging continued as Myra and Gabriel sprinted into the single bedroom of their apartment, only stopping so Myra could grab her son's baseball bat from a small toy bin in the corner of the living room. Leon remained in the living room, standing next to the door with his pistol retracted, lying in wait for whatever was coming for them.

The door broke down with a thundering crash, followed by two young men carrying crudely-fashioned weapons rushing into the apartment.

"Break yo'self, motherfuckers!" One of the men said as he wrestled free Leon's handgun, immediately training the newly-acquired weapon upon him.

"Look man," Leon relied calmly, his arms raised skyward, "I got my wife and kid in that bedroom. I don't want no trouble."

"Man, fuck you!" The pistol carrying assailant shouted, "You better get the fuck out of our way or I'll fill 'yo ass with holes!"

"What the hell is wrong with you, doin' this to your people? Haven't you got a brain in your skull, you belligerent thug?"

With that, the assailant pistol-whipped Leon across the head, rendering him unconscious. As Leon fell to the floor, the two men made their way to the bedroom in which Myra and Gabriel were taking refuge. The gunman moved in first, training his pilfered weapon on Myra. She moved her son behind her as she stood up, clutching the baseball bat across her chest and ready to strike.

"Bitch, sit down!" The gunman's accomplice ordered Myra. She simply ignored, standing in defiance toward the two criminals.

"Y'all ain't hurting my son!" She replied.

"Sit the fuck down, bitch!" The gunman moved in closer, "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Motherfucker, you ain't layin' a finger on my son!"

"Aw, so it's like that. I guess we gonna have to do this the hard way, then."

"Kill my ass and do whatever," Myra disobeyed once more, "I'm _not_ letting you hurt my little boy."

The gunman lunged forward at Myra, placing the barrel of the handgun on her head as she tried to push free from his clutches. She managed to spoil his aim as he pulled the trigger, sending two bullets into the headboard of a queen-size bed that sat centered on the back wall of their bedroom. As the gunman lost his balance, Myra broke free and swung the bat with all her fury, impacting the gunman's right-side ribcage and sending him reeling in pain. Myra swung once more, this time at his leg. The second blow knocked the gunman to the ground, and caused his accomplice to take off from the apartment in a mad frenzy.

The gun-wielding thug, still on the ground, backed away from the angered mother, now with a helpless look in his eyes. As she moved closer, the assailant dropped the gun on the floor.

"Get your sorry ass out of my house!" Myra poked the now unarmed burglar in his torso, deliberately picking out his damaged ribcage as the target. He winced in pain and clutched the injured spot. As she backed him closer to the bedroom door, he finally mustered the strength to rise to his feet, making his way out of the small apartment in a fervor. Myra chased after him, bat in hand, but stopped at the damaged door frame that led inside.

"Crackhead motherfuckers!" Myra yelled down the hall, "Find someone else to feed your zyme addiction!"

Myra returned to the bedroom to see her son huddled in a corner, tears streaming down his face after such a frightening experience.

"Baby, it's okay." She coddled Gabriel in an attempt to soothe his loud crying, "Those guys can't hurt us no more."

"Are they gonna come back, mommy?" Gabriel stuttered as he replied, still tear-ridden.

"I don't know, sweetheart. But me and daddy will protect you if they come back." Myra comforted her son in a calm, soothing voice, "Everything's gonna be fine, Gabe." Myra kissed her son on the cheek and place his head on her shoulder, causing Gabriel's crying to subside.

At that moment, Leon regained consciousness and ascertained what had happened to him. He placed his hand on the wall and labored to pull himself off of the ground. With trouble, he stumbled toward the bedroom while holding the sore spot on his head caused by the impact of the pistol. Once inside the bedroom, his wife stood up and went over to hug him.

"Here's your gun." Myra said as she pulled away from her husband.

"Thank you." Leon replied, taking the weapon from her hands and setting it aside, "They take anything?"

"I don't think so. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, nothing worse than a bad headache. Is Gabe alright?"

"He's fine. A little shaken up, but I made sure they didn't touch him."

"Good."

Leon simply held his wife in his arms once more, the roar of the crowd outside eliciting an uneasy feeling within the depths of his stomach.

* * *

"Jason, don't just sit there. Do _something_!" Carrie yelled in a panic. Kevin was still alive, but could already be mistaken for a corpse by the untrained eye.

"What do you want me to do?" Jason said, equally befuddled.

"I don't know, find help!"

"Where the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"God, you're hopeless!" She scoffed at Jason, then turned back to Kevin. "Please, no" Carrie began to cry once again, "Don't die on me now. Don't leave me, Kev." She held him close to her, his body merely a rag doll at this point. She had already lost too much already, curse God to take the only friend she had left. She'd only gotten to know him through all of the chaos and now, it seemed, he stood in line at the Gates of Eternity.

Why was she making such a big deal over this? Yesterday Kevin Roscoe was the quiet one, the garden-variety nice-guy. The second-string running back. Not the cocky, bad-boy types she'd always fancied. Why did she care so much? What had brought her so close to Kevin? Why was she shedding tears over something that could just as easily turn out for the better?

Carrie heard the sound of tires screeching to her left.

"Get in, and bring Crash Test Dummy, too!" Jason yelled from the side of the street. It appeared as though while she was lost in thought, Jason went out and found a car. Part of her hoped that it wasn't stolen, but that was the least of her worries. She mustered up the strength to hoist Kevin's body over her shoulder and painstakingly walked to the car. Jason exited to help with the load.

"Put him in the back." Jason said as he opened the door to the four-door sedan. It was a 2028 Chevrolet Highlander, one of the first gravitationally-driven cars introduced to the world. The wheel-less drive system would make navigating the rubble much less excruciating. Jason hopped back in the driver seat after laying Kevin across the back seat and began driving.

"Do you still have the phone?" Carrie asked.

"Aw, shit. I think it got lost in the rubble." Jason replied, disheartened.

"Well, we need to get him medical attention as soon as possible!" Carrie continued to panic.

"I know, I'm not stupid!"

_Could have fooled me_, she thought.

"I'll see if there's something on the news."

Jason reached down to the console to turn on the radio. _Static._

"Shit, I knew it!" Jason fretted, "Radio stations are out." He continued to flip through the radio channels until he got a signal.

"_We still are receiving scattered reports about the aftermath, but early estimates place the death toll from the earthquake at close to twenty million. Local emergency offices are scrambling to put together skeleton crews at best to tend to the needs of the survivors along the most heavily damaged areas. The president has ordered the Army into California, but it is unclear..."_

"Come on, nobody gives a fuck about the President!" Jason remarked.

"Well hurry up and think of something, or we're gonna be spending a _lot _more time alone!" Carrie exclaimed. Jason remained silent for a moment, then an idea shot into his head like a speeding bullet.

"Wait a second." He spoke, overcome with a surprising cheer, "All post-'26s have some type of emergency function. I'm sure there's one here."

"Are you positive?" Carrie inquired.

"Gotta be. This is a '28, right?" Jason glanced around the dashboard.

"I think so." Said Carrie, obviously unsure. Cars weren't her area of expertise.

"Look on the console, it might be some kind of goofy interface in the CPU."

They both fumbled around the front-side portion of the car while it hovered aimlessly idled in autopilot. Both searched anxiously for a way to get in contact with somebody who could help them. Carrie navigated her way through all of the bells and whistles of the CPU interface. TransiTV, operating specs, HDD contents, GPS navigation; nothing she knew a lick about. She finally found something on the main interface page titled "Emergency Distress Signal."

"Found it!" She announced, promptly selecting the application. Carrie was immediately greeted by a small menu, which at the bottom was a menu function displaying "Broadcast EDS." She selected it, immediately eliciting a humming sound from the antenna control of the car, indicating to her that the signal was being sent out. Soon after, the aforementioned news broadcast cut out, replaced by an automated voice.

"_Due to technical difficulties, your EDS has been redirected to a national terminal."_

"National office? How is somebody in a different part of the country gonna be able to help us?" Carrie remarked in annoyance.

"EDS, please state your current location." A monotone female voice crackled over the receiver.

"Yes, we're in San Bernardino..." Carrie began explaining before being cut off.

"You guys are survivors of the earthquakes, I presume." The voice continued.

"Umm... yeah." She replied sarcastically, contemplating why someone would ask such a dumb question.

"We've already gotten a few calls from your area, and we've just been patching them through to direct crew lines. Right now, they're better equipped to handle your situation."

"Okay, thank you."

_Great, I've got a half-dead teenage boy in the back seat and they're giving me the runaround._

"Sergeant Escobar, San Bernardino Police. What is the nature of your emergency?" Another voice, this time male, greeted Carrie.

"Yes, I'm in a car on," She turned momentarily to Jason and whispered, "What street are we on?"

"Marshall." Jason replied.

"Marshall Boulevard heading east." Carrie explained to the officer, "I'm carrying a 16 year-old male in the back seat who appears to be in a coma, and we need to find someone that can help us."

"What is your name, young lady?" The voice continued.

"Carolina Jimenez."

"Okay Carolina, I need you to stay calm. Can you explain what caused him to slip into a coma?"

"Yeah, we were inside when the second quake hit, and the door collapsed on his head."

"Has he been unconscious since then?"

"Not entirely, he was awake for a few hours after being hit."

"How long has it been since he initially lost consciousness?"

"I don't know about fifteen, thirty minutes? He passed out a little bit after sunset. Look, I don't know the exact frickin' time. It's not like we had the luxury of a clock!" Carrie reacted sharply.

"Carolina, I know you've been through a lot," The officer attempt to ease her frustration, "But try to stay cool. It appears the subject is suffering from a concussion. Judging by what you told me it doesn't seem to be serious at this moment, but it could become fatal if left untreated. Have you been applying ice to his forehead?"

"Not all the time. We've been scavenging ice all morning. I mean, we don't have any right now"

"You've made some effort, but he still needs medical attention. Luckily, a triage center has been set up not far from where you guys are at."

"Good, where is it?"

"It's located on... Highland and Valencia. The old Perris Hill Park."

"Thank you so much!" She hung up the phone.

"Perris Hill, here we come!" Jason said as he sped the car around a chunk of debris from one of the highway bridges.

"Can I ask you something?" Carrie asked after a moment had passed.

"Shoot." Jason coolly replied.

"Exactly where did you find this car?" She stuttered, fearing the worst.

"Found it with the keys in the ignition. Not a soul around."

"So it's not stolen?"

"No way, _Jose! _Legit wheels all the way!"

"Good to hear."

"Plus, driver was dead. Figured he wasn't using it anymore!"

Carrie gagged as though she had walked into a room full of rotting corpses.

* * *

"Look, I don't care about all your fancy computer systems and shit! My neighborhood is under attack, and I don't see a cop anywhere!" Leon yelled into the receiver at the man on the other line.

"Again sir, I apologize for your situation. All of our manpower is currently tied up in other matters. This disaster has affected the entire city." The man replied calmly, although at the same time sheepishly.

"God damn it, people are goin' apeshit right outside my window, I can see it! For Chrissake, send riot police or something!" Leon continued to pressure the man.

"Sir, I'm sorry for your inconvenience. Rest assured we are doing..."

"Inconvenience?" Leon interrupted, "My house has already been busted up by two spazzed-out tweakers! I don't know about you, but I consider my family being in danger as more than just a simple fucking inconvenience."

"I've been getting calls from all over your neighborhood about the riots there, and I've told them the same thing I'm telling you. I understand you're leery of the present situation, but yelling at me won't get you helped."

"Kiss my ass!" Leon yelled as he hung up the phone. It was clear to him that the powers-that-be didn't care about his plight. He quietly walked into the couple's bedroom and sat down on the bed, an expression of fury in his eyes. Leon had to think of a Plan-B, and fast.

"What's wrong?" Myra asked.

"They can't do anything for us." Leon lit up a cigarette. He sighed as that last sentence sank in. His family was left to die in the utter chaos that was ensuing before his very eyes. Leon fumed at how law enforcement neglected their shoddy inner city neighborhood. Had he been in the upper-class section of Olympia, he knew he would be treated different. People like him were expendable, left to fend for themselves over table-scraps while well-to-dos were wined and dined.

Leon picked up his NetPhone and called the only man he believed could help him.

"Hello?" A man replied in a calm, grainy voice.

"Cage, it's Woods. I need a favor." Leon said.

"What is it?" Cage inquired.

"I'm in a hot spot right now", Leon explained, "And I need to find a place to stay. Do we have any safe houses close by?"

"I don't think so. The rioting has turned downtown into a battleground. What's the problem?"

"My apartment's just been robbed. The rioters are getting downright dangerous, and the cops won't do shit!"

"It's the same all over Olympia. As soon as the quakes hit, everything went into anarchy. Law enforcement can't do anything, and frankly they don't care to."

"What? You've got to be kidding me."

"They're leaving us to crumble under the pandemonium, Leon. We've got to do something, and fast."

"I know that!" Leon screamed at his longtime friend, "Right now my family's my only priority, and their safety holds importance over 'The Big Push'. Now where the hell is a goddamn safe house that's actually _safe_?"

The other end stood silent.

"Victor?" Leon pressed. It was rare that he called Cage by his first name.

"We have one, but it's all the way in Aberdeen. With public transit out of commission, getting there could be..."

"Can you get us there?" Leon cut him off.

Cage thought for a moment, "I don't know if I can send a driver to Thurston and Lybarger. You may have to make it on foot to Watershed and rendezvous with a few of our supporters."

"Watershed Park? That's like 20 blocks away! I'll be minced before I make it that far."

"With your situation, it looks as though that's our best bet to get you out of there. I'll contact you if anything else comes up."

The line clicked dead. Leon was overcome with fear and doubt as to how he would get himself out of this. He was in the middle of a war zone, everything around him resembling the downtrodden back-alleys in Islamabad he fought so hard to defend, during his years of decorated service with the Army. But this time there was more at stake. Back then he could care less who died in the cross fire, himself included, just as long as the mission was accomplished. Here, he had his wife and son under his watch. Without him, they were helpless in the sea of chaos that surged around him. The only way out was through.

"Honey, grab Gabriel. We're leaving!" He shouted as he opened his closet and grabbed an old-model US assault rifle, his 9mm, two clips of 9mm rounds, and three 5.56mm magazines.

"Leon, what's going on? And why are you grabbing all your guns out of the closet?" Myra replied skeptically.

"Cage has a place south of here," Leon explained, "It's out of the way of the city. We can lay low there until everything dies down."

"And how we supposed to get there?" Myra continued to question her husband's motives.

"Cage's people are gonna meet us in Watershed Park." Leon said as he loaded a magazine into his rifle, "We have to make it there on our own."

"With everybody raisin' a damned ruckus? I hate to ask, Leon, but are you trying to get us killed?"

"Sweetie, Just trust me on this!" Leon consoled his wife, "I promise you that I'll get both of you out of here alive and well."

"You promise?" Myra replied sweetly.

"I swear to God I will." Leon looked Myra dead in the eye. If he ever held anything dear, it was his word. Their life rested in his hands, and he would die to protect them. He pulled out his pistol and held in in front of Myra. "I hope you don't need this," He said as he thumbed the safety of his weapon, "But if you do: click, point, shoot."

Myra took the weapon as he handed it to her. The cold steel felt foreign on her soft hands, and it struck a feeling of terror into her heart. Few times in her life had she ever held a gun, let alone shot one. As she gripped the stock of the pistol, the scope of their ever-present danger slowly crept into her soul. Although she considered herself a very headstrong person, Myra was never the violent type. At least, unless there was something serious at stake. That definitely showed when she fought off the two gangsters that attacked her just minutes ago. And now she would have to take that a step further if she was to protect her son and husband.

"Let's go!" Leon yelled as he motioned Gabriel and Myra through the broken door frame, "We'll escape outside one of the back doors and go as far as we can through the alleyways. Whatever happens, stick close to me."

Leon paced into the hallway towards the elevator, hoisting his assault rifle and keeping his family close behind him. As he neared an intersection, he aimed his rifle down both ends of the perpendicular corridor and continued down the right side. "Babe, watch our six." he directed his wife, putting his extensive combat training to good use. Myra trembled nervously as she back-stepped behind Leon, keeping Gabriel between herself and her husband. She held the pistol with a firm grip, placing her finger outside of the trigger guard to avoid accidentally firing the weapon.

"Damn." Leon cursed when he reached the elevator, "Just as I thought, elevator's out of order."

"So?" His wife inquired.

"We're gonna have to take the stairs." He promptly decided, "Sweetie, keep watching our back. I'll go in first to make sure it's clear."

* * *

_...Early reports from the Associated Press indicate the death toll for the California Earthquakes reaching already catastrophic proportions, with estimates easily in the tens of millions. Emergency crews are scrambling with what little resources they have to effectively deal with the victims of this tragedy. But in the meantime, thousands of survivors are left wandering the rubble-filled streets of their respective home cities in search of food and shelter. We now go live to Pasadena, where already a large gathering of survivors have banded together to..._

Carrie leaned motionless against the car, half-listening to the endless stream of radio news broadcasts that flooded the airwaves, erstwhile facing the armada of tents in the parking lot of Perris Hill park. Kevin was barely alive by the time they were able to dodge traffic and arrive at the triage center, and she did all she could to stem the flow of bad thoughts that crept into her head regarding Kevin. She braced herself for any sort of bad news she received as soon as Jason returned to the car.

She fought the urge to give in to her instincts and break the makeshift center's policy, which allowed only one visitor to a tent for any patient in their little "ICU". Carrie had been through enough stress within the last 12 hours, and the last thing she needed was to be griped at by a security guard on a power at the same time, the anticipation ate at her. It killed her to not know whether or not her friend was still alive, enough to the point where she simply gave in and began concocting a plan to sneak into ICU just to check on him.

"Carrie?" a familiar voice startled her, causing her to nearly tumble to the ground.

"Oh, sorry. You scared the hell out of me!" she replied after regaining her balance and catching her breath.

"Oh, my bad." Jasonapologized, "I've got some news about Kev, though."

"Really? Is everything alright? Is he gonna be okay?"

"Well, the good news is that he's stable and they've moved him to a regular bed. The bad news is that he's still unconscious. They're gonna keep an eye on him to see what happens."

"Oh, I see..." Carrie's voice trailed off.

"Nevertheless, I need a bump." Jason replied, opening the back car door and reaching behind the seat for a half-empty fifth of liquor. Upon closing the door, he immediately opened the bottle and began to guzzle it's contents as though it was ice cold water. Carrie looked at him dumbfounded and began to smirk.

"What?" Jason said nonchalantly, "In my honest opinion, a fucked-up series of events such as these are as good a reason as any for a little 'Hair of the Dog'."

Jason held the bottle toward Carrie, which she forcibly grabbed from his hand and took a small sip. Regardless, it was enough to trigger her gag reflex.

"Not much of a drinker, I take it?" Jason teased Carrie.

She faced the label to her and began reading out loud, "'Porter's Vodka, One Hundred Proof'? Don't tell me you 'scavenged' this too."

"No way, _Jose. _This was under the driver's seat when I found the car. Say what you want, but the guy knows how to get fucked up."

Carrie took a larger drink out of the bottle, this time able to stomach it a little better after she finished.

"Hey, quit hoggin' it! You're not the only one getting drunk here." Jason complained.

Carrie passed the bottle back to Jason, who silently drank while simultaneously holding a lit cigarette in the hand opposite Carrie.

"So," Jason broke the temporary silence, "What do you think is gonna happen after all this?"

"I don't know." Carrie replied, "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure if I wanna know right now."

"Why's that?" Jason inquired.

"It's just, well..." Carrie took a long pause, "...It's been more than 12 hours since this all happened and..."

"And...?" Jason interrupted

"...And any moment now I'm still expecting to wake up safe in my bed and find out this was all just some crazy nightmare."

Despite all efforts, Jason was unable to muster up a response. He just laid back against the front passenger door of the car, lightly grasping the bottle of rot-gut liquor that was shared between the two.

"You hear me, Jason?" Carrie broke his train of thought.

"Yeah, I caught you." He finally responded, "Honestly, I'm just as mind-fucked as you are. And what's eating at me more than anything is how the hell we're gonna get through this. We're high-schoolers for fuck's sake, we're still children! All we're supposed to care about is passing tests, going to college, and getting laid. Not sitting on our asses in some parking lot contemplating what our lives are gonna be like as earthquake survivors."

Carrie couldn't believe what she was hearing. It wasn't more than a few hours ago that she seemed to constantly be feuding with Jason. The same Jason that was now unloading his thoughts and feelings on their current plight. The same Jason that less than a day earlier constantly worked at his life's goal of being viewed as the ultimate class clown. She slowly pried the Vodka from Jason's limp right hand and took another swing, this time more than just a small sip.

"Well whatever happens," Carrie spoke after putting down the bottle, now almost empty, "I think it's safe to say that Me, You, and Kevin – if that _guero_ ever wakes up – are gonna be all that we have left for quite a while."

"Something tells me it's gonna be more 'You and Kev' and less 'Me'." Jason chuckled as he replied.

"Oh really," Carrie snipped, not realizing that she was starting to blush, "And what makes you think that?"

"Think?" Jason snickered once again, "There's no thinking involved. It's written all over your face."

"I think you're reading way too much into this." Carrie coolly replied, her face almost crimson at this point.

"Okay," Jason continued, "Who had a death-grip around his body the whole morning? Who sat there next to the fire and cradled him like a baby all night? Who went positively ape-shit when he nodded off again? By the way, what were you all doing again when the first quake hit?"

"Alright, I confess." Carrie sighed, finally abandoning her deception, "I have a thing for Kev, and not just the whole _clich__é_ 'jock-cheerleader' romance either."

"Now we're getting somewhere." Jason quipped, "Continue."

She sighed for a bit, then spoke again, "It actually all goes back to middle school, back when he got moved mid-semester to my science class. Back then he was, like, the biggest nerd in school."

Jason's chuckling evolved into full-fledged laughter at her last statement.

"Jason, be quiet. I'm dead serious!" Carrie finally joined in with his display of humor, "Every single day he dressed the same: slicked hair, slacks, dress shoes, buttoned-up shirt with a tie and a sweater vest. Everyone made fun of him constantly, always called him 'Professor Roscoe'."

"I know, I was one of them!" Jason struggled to speak in between persistent spurts of laughter.

"Anyway, one of the things that always impressed me was that he never seemed to be bothered by it. He'd just take it in stride, like he was cool with all the ragging."

"So what happened?"

"Well back then, I was all about hanging with the popular crowd, just like everybody else. Everything I did was for the sake of being trendy and cool, and stuff. Anyway, I thought going after Kev would just screw all that up, so I never went after it. And though I kinda suspected he had a thing for me too, I just shrugged it off and moved on. But as time went on, Kevin slowly quit being the nerdy kid that always dressed like he was going to church. Oh my God, I still remember how we all freaked out that first day at Cajon, when we saw him in blue jeans and a 'Demoralized' shirt."

"Compliments of Yours Truly." Jason pointed at himself.

"Yeah, whatever." Carrie continued the story. "At the time I was going through boyfriends like water. Every time I'd break up with one, it seemed like the girls would line up another no matter how much I bitched about it. I never really got the chance to try to hook up with him, even as he was busting his scrawny ass with the football team. Well, until last night..."

A smile began to stretch across her face after that last comment. Jason playfully replied, "Carrie and Kevin sittin' in a tree, F-U-C..."

"Oh, shut up already!" Carrie interjected, "That stopped being funny in elementary."

"Never lost it's luster with me."

"That doesn't surprise me." She scolded him, "Anyway, all that is pretty much dead and gone. I don't know about you, but this isn't exactly an ideal setting for a romantic interlude."

"I call bullshit. I'll bet money that one of you is gonna get an opportunity and act on it. Just do me a favor: warn me before it happens so I can clear the area. The thought of seeing my friend going to town on you is not a very good one."

"Okay, I'll try." Carrie stood up and brushed the dirt off of her bottom, "In the mean time, I'm gonna go check on Kev. You stay out here and watch the car. Try not to get drunk and pass out."

"Yes, mother." Jason yelled as she headed toward one of the makeshift hospital tents. She quickly rolled her eyes in annoyance.

* * *

"Dad, where are we going?" Gabriel inquired, huddling close behind Myra and Leon.

"Don't worry, Gabe. Everything's gonna be fine." Leon assured his only child as they navigated the chaotic streets of their neighborhood. The scene looked even more harrowing up close that it did from the window of their apartment. Screams, police sirens, explosions, and gunshots filled the mid-morning air with a display of mischief that was at best incomprehensible to most onlookers. Firefighters and law enforcement alike scrambled to keep the situation from escalating any further, but their efforts proved to be in vain at the moment. Looters, rioters, and all kinds of other dissidents had virtually elicited all semblance of control of the general vicinity, and it was all Leon could do to keep a low profile amongst the chaos.

His luck nearly turned for the worse when a Molotov Cocktail exploded mere yards in front of him and his family. They all recoiled from the sudden blast, narrowly missed by the shower of cinders that ensued from the explosion. Leon waited for the fires to recede to a safer level, then continued on. He noticed only after a few steps that his companions were no longer following him. Leon turned around and saw Myra clutching Gabriel and standing completely still.

"What's wrong, babe?" Leon asked, confused by her actions.

Myra stood silent, holding Gabriel even tighter.

"Myra, what the hell is going on?" Leon asked again, this time more stern.

"You tell me, Leon." she finally answered, "Here we are walking through a damned madhouse and risking our lives, not even knowing if we're gonna even survive to the next block, and all you can say is 'What's wrong, babe?'" The last sentence, she sarcastically imitated her husband.

"Myra, look," Leon calmly replied, "I'm meeting up with some friends at Watershed Park. From there, they can get us out of town and we'll be safe, I promise you."

"Friends, you say? How do you know you can trust these guys, Leon? I've never even met these people and now you expect me to trust my life, _our lives_," she pointed to Gabriel, "To a couple of your buddies? I'm sorry Leon, but this is insanity. What if one of us gets killed, all three of us even? I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to take that risk."

"You think I haven't considered that already? It's no safer out here in the streets than it is at our home, but I'd rather take a chance on finding refuge than..."

"Excuse me, people." An unknown voice interrupted Leon. All three turned around to see a riot cop dressed in full black armor and pointing a pistol in their direction. "I advise you all to return to your homes. The streets are off-limits until the dangerous elements are apprehended."

"And how long is that gonna take?" Leon sternly asked.

"Sir, I can't tell you but I assure you..." The man was cut off by Leon.

"...'That we're doing everything we can to ensure the safety of the general populace'. I heard the same damned spiel on the phone when two thugs busted into my apartment!"

"I'm sorry sir, but my orders are to direct all civilians back to their homes. We will update as the situation changes."

"Look man, I'm the last person that's in the mood for party lines right now. Leave us be, and go on your merry way!"

"Mister this is your last warning: surrender your firearms and retreat to a safe location before I am forced to take you into custody!"

Leon bowed his head and disarmed his assault rifle, motioning to Myra to do the same. The officer immediately confiscated their guns and handed them to his partner.

"Thank you for your cooperation, sir." The officer replied. Leon looked at him coldly, and then began walking in his opposite direction. The three were completely silent as Leon lead the way back. He seemed utterly discouraged as his kin followed his slow but steady pace. Despite being unarmed, however, he still maintained his alertness. Myra was even more unsure of his plan now than she was just a few minutes ago, but she still kept Gabriel tethered to her as she mimicked Leon's pace.

"Over there!" Leon finally exclaimed.

"What is it?" Myra skeptically replied.

"That abandoned parking garage." said Leon, "We can hide out there until I can find some help. Quickly, follow me!"

As ordered, they followed Leon as he moved swiftly across the street to a small parking structure that had been shut down for some time. As they headed toward the entrance, Myra noticed that the entrance was barred to keep out trespassers. Despite this, Leon continued down the ramp toward the gated area as though it didn't exist in the first place.

"Leon, how are we supposed to get in if the gate is..." Just as she was to finish her sentence, Leon sprung the padlock and wiggled his way beyond the gate. Myra and Gabriel soon followed him into the empty, cavernous construct. They wandered for what seemed like ages before they finally arrived at the back wall, next to a door labeled "Maintenance: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY". Once again, Leon simply picked the lock and opened the door, leading them to a small room littered with garbage.

"Hey, who the hell are you?" an unknown male voice shouted after he stepped inside and turned on the light.

"Relax, we're just looking for a place to hide out." Leon replied, "I'm not looking to hurt anyone, and I've got my wife and my 10 year-old to prove it."

"Are you?" the man's voice trailed off.

"I'm not a cop, if that's what you're asking." Leon replied.

"Okay you're not police... so how else could you know about this place?"

Myra heard only faint conversation from outside the maintenance room.

"What are they talking about mommy?" Gabriel asked.

"I don't know, kiddo." She replied as the faint whispering continued.

"My son and daughter are trapped beneath the remains." The unknown man spoke aloud once more.

"Their fate will be the same as ours." Leon replied with his own code phrase.

* * *

Carrie and Jason sat motionless in the small waiting area set up within the confines of the makeshift triage center. Though Jason's inactivity was largely due to heavy inebriation, Carrie's was simply a state of deep thought. She was quietly absorbing the sights and sounds that surrounded her. Immediately across from her, a netcast radio broadcasted multiple news reports about the earthquakes. To her left, two older males played around with a deck of cards. Further to her left, a family of three were curled up under a large blanket. Right next to her, two females – possibly in their early-twenties – recounted their own experiences of the present situation. And all over the place, she heard the endless symphony of medical machinery, conversing medical staff, and the occasional cry of pain from an injured patient.

Most of all, she was planning out her immediate future. Specifically, her future as an orphan. She was on her own now, left to survive an increasingly chaotic world virtually alone. True, she had Kevin and Jason as companions, but she was unsure as to how long that would last. In spite of their revealing conversation earlier that day, she still felt unsure as to how trustworthy Jason could be in all of this. Additionally, she still didn't know much of Kevin's chances of recovery.

As the fear of abandonment sank in, a pit developed in her stomach. Even if Kevin survived, how long would it be until they could find permanent housing? The news broadcasts continually spoke of the relief effort and the possibility of temporary refugee shelters, but she wondered if they could be accommodated.

She fought off the thoughts of negativity that ran rampant through her mind. _Everything will be fine in the end, _her grandmother always told her when she was feeling down. _God never gives us any more than we can handle._ Every bit of Carrie's psyche hoped that to be true.

Slowly she began to drift into a light slumber, the physical and mental exhaustion finally taking it's toll on the young girl. Her mind slowly began to drift away from it's state of fear. She suddenly found herself in a much more serene place. Carrie was now surrounded by a lush, green field and tall, robust trees. The sun shone brightly across the beautiful landscape as she ran toward a tall, muscular man with a cropped haircut. He wore an Army-green tank-top, denim shorts, a pair of sunglasses, and his arms were covered with military-themed tattoos.

It was her father.

Carrie subconsciously realized where she was. The girl was enjoying an all day picnic at the park with her family, a fond memory of her childhood now manifest within her. Carrie's father was able to return home on holiday leave from the Army. She hugged her dad with all the strength she could muster from her seven-year-old body.

A tap on her shoulder abruptly awoke her, bringing her back to the harsh reality of the real world.

"What do you want?" Carrie snapped.

"Hey, doc's here." Jason ignored her agitation, "He has news about Kevin."

"Really," She was suddenly alert, "Is he okay?"

"As much as I can't believe I'm saying this," the doctor began, "He's awake and fully alert."

Carrie instinctively hugged Jason as soon as the doctor finished speaking, cries of happiness reverberating all over the enclosure.

"He might have a moderate headache for a while," the doctor – Wilson, as it said on his name badge – continued, "But he shouldn't be feeling too bad. Kid's lucky as hell to be alive and in good condition, from what you guys told the nurses."

"Thank you, Dr. Wilson, thank you!" Carrie exclaimed as she hugged the doctor.

"You're welcome, ma'am. We just got done moving him to a regular bed. Maybe you guys would like some time with him?"

"Sure thing." Jason replied, "Just tell us where he is."

They followed Dr. Wilson in a mostly straightforward path to the largest of the tents, which took them into open air for the first time in several hours. The sun was beginning it's descent into the southwest portion of the horizon. Jason checked his watch. _16:26_.

The doctor entered the main tent and meandered through the various partitions within, the youth in steady pursuit. Carrie peeked around at some of the other patients as they entered and exited each "room". There was definitely a sense of diversity among their respective injuries. Everything from cuts, scrapes, and bruises, to life-threatening injuries as indicated on some people who were almost completely covered with bandages.

Dr. Wilson finally stopped and motioned toward one of the beds. The pair slowly crept up to the partitioned area to see their friend holding an ice pack to his left temple.

"There can be only one Highlander!" Jason jokingly exclaimed as he approached the bed and patted Kevin on the shoulder, "How 'ya feelin', bastard?"

"Like shit." Kevin said in a labored, grainy voice, "Feels like I took a direct hit from a freight train."

"He was relatively stable when we brought him in." Dr. Wilson interjected, "It took Kevin a while to regain consciousness, so we couldn't run run a lot of tests initially. Good news is he doesn't seem to have any long-term brain damage: memory loss, motor skills, that sort of thing. Bad news is we need to keep him here for a few days so we can get a more accurate prognosis. All that being said," He paused, turning his gaze toward Kevin, "You're one lucky son of a bitch for being alright after what you just went through. You must have won good favor with the man upstairs."

"Yeah," Kevin replied, "Or someone else."

* * *

"Name's Jimmie Burke." The man introduced himself, "You're one of Cage's guys?"

"Yes, Leon Woods." He replied, extending his right hand, "Victor and I go way back."

"Nevertheless, it's good to see a little familiarity around here." Jimmie spoke, "How did you find out about this place?"

"I've known about it all along." Leon replied, "I had just forgotten that it was still an active rally point."

"For what it's worth, it's good we ran into each other." Jimmie continued frantically while simultaneously puffing a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, "Cage has advised everybody to evacuate the Tri-City area and find a safe house to lay low for a few days. The problem is..."

"...Evacuating the Tri-City area." Leon cut Jimmie off, "Between local police and the looters, we have a difficult task on our hands. Have you heard anything from Watershed?"

"Watershed Park? Far as I know, Cage is still using it as an XP for us. Problem is the roads are blocked for miles and the cops are jumping on everybody trying to get there on foot."

"Yeah, I know. A couple riot cops just got done giving us the red-ass."

"I'd believe it. About 2 hours ago I saw 'em snatch up a group of college kids camping out in the alleys not far from here. I was holed up behind a dumpster about 40 yards away and booked it over here as soon as I could make a break for it."

"College students?" Leon replied with disgust, "You gotta be shittin' me."

"I don't know what the deal is. Cops came in like hungry lions, pointing assault rifles at their heads and everything. These were just students, no weapons or anything. Just a few bags of dry food, bottled water, tents, and that's it. Poor kids got run out of their dorms after the quakes hit and had nowhere to go, just ridin' the storm out 'till they could leave town. Fuckin' cops wrangled 'em up and transported 'em, probably off to county."

"So how'd you get up here without being caught?"

"I tippy-toed around all the ruckus until I could find a storm drain that led here. Crawled about 500 feet through the tunnel. Surprised I even fit in there. Who's that outside the door?"

"Oh, them?" Leon motioned to the door, "That's my wife and kid. A couple druggies broke into our house and we've been trying to leave town ever since. However, after what you've told me I don't even know if that's possible anymore. Now you said you found a storm drain leading out of here."

"Yeah, I worked for 'W and P' when I got out of the service. Got let go after all the lay-offs last winter. I know the sewer and drain network like the back of my hand."

"Is there a way to the park through the drainage system?"

"Well..." Jimmie trailed off.

"Well, what?" Leon replied forcefully.

"I _was _planning to hold out until things got better," Jimmie labored to convey his thoughts, "Plus, between the rats and the quakes, those tunnels are pretty damned dangerous. You sure you want to go that route?"

"Look," Leon began raising his voice, "Ain't a damn thing more dangerous down there than what's out there. My priority right now is getting my family to safe ground, even if it means my life. You're gonna have to come up with a better excuse than that."

Jimmie contemplated for a moment. Any alternative was better than trying to make it to Watershed topside. In his mind, the situation was only going to get worse. His newfound counterpart's idea was their best bet for getting out of here alive.

"You make an excellent point," he finally spoke up. "I'm not making any promises, though. Anyone gets hurt or killed, it's on you."

"You let me worry about that," Leon asserted, "You got arms?"

"All I got on me is a box knife and a Lorcin with four bullets left." The stranger tapped the outside of his jacket.

"Don't worry, I've got a few nine-mil clips in my pocket. You sure you know how to get there?"

"Yeah, I can get you guys to Watershed through the drain network, but it's not gonna be a straight shot and we'll have to double back a few times."

"Works for me. Just lead the way."

"There's a grate on the other side of the garage. Hope you guys don't mind a long-ass crawl. Watershed's still about 15 blocks from here."

The two men exited the maintenance closet. Leon stood behind while the anonymous stranger led the way through the abandoned parking structure. As they trudged through the dimly-lit structure, Myra clutched Gabriel and stood in dead silence, gazing in deep thought as the to men began to fade into the distance. Her gut went into a knot as she contemplated the unthinkable.

_Is he trying to get us killed,_ Myra thought. Her husband seemed to have their best interests at heart, but his recklessness had dragged them into harm's way on multiple occasions. She wondered just how much longer their luck would last before fate finally caught up with them. Not to mention the secretive demeanor that always came over Leon when she inquired about not only their destination, but the people upon which he had been putting the bulk of his trust to deliver himself and his family to safety. To her best recollection, there was never a time in their marriage in which he was this sealed off about anything. _Just who are these people_, she wondered. In her mind, they could be anything from poker buddies to family members, or even as sinister as a mistress or organized criminals. Myra shuddered at the thought.

Unfortunately, she saw no other alternative. After all, Myra assured herself, she would rather her husband take drastic measures to ensure their welfare than simply ride out the storm, of which it was impossible to determine whether it would die off or simply get worse as time dragged on.

"Come on, Gabe." She tugged his arm and reluctantly paced toward Leon and Jimmie.

* * *

Carrie sat upright in the bed, facing Kevin as she clutched his left hand. They were virtually alone in the enclosed "room", Carrie embracing the wounded Kevin well into the dusk period of the day. At Dr. Wilson's request Jason was back at the car attempting to contact his parents, who were taking a weekend in Las Vegas at the time of the earthquakes. For one Carrie was glad he was away, even if it was only temporary. His abrasive and inopportune sense of humor had worn to her last nerve, and his nonchalant attitude and belligerence continued to create tension between the two, often times nearly resulting in physical altercation. Needless to say, she savored every moment of peace and quiet offered by his absence.

The young lady kept her eyes fixated on Kevin, running her index and middle finger through his hair repeatedly as she sank once again into deep thought. As she sat there on the bed, she suddenly realized that everything around her melted away. She felt impervious to all the pain, chaos, and fear that enveloped her surroundings. For that little shred of time, it was just her and Kevin. Battered and bruised as he was, he still gave her a sense of comfort.

She wondered what things would be like if they hadn't been caught up in this mess. In her mind, she replayed the events of last night as though she had gave Kevin the night of his life. She pictured them laying in the grass, locked in each other's arms and gazing at the city's lights from the moonlit bluff. Everything was perfect, and at that moment there was no place she would rather be.

The sound of Kevin coughing startled her out of her daydream.

"Kevin, you alright?" Carrie acknowledged.

"Yeah," Kevin responded. "Just feels like David Solzer playing his drum solo from 'Eye of the Pyramid'." David Solzer was the drummer from The Demoralized.

"You know," Carrie said after a long pause, "You look kinda cute all banged up like this."

"Huh, nice to know." Kevin said nonchalantly.

"No, I'm serious." She reiterated, "It's true what they say: chicks dig scars."

"The things we do in order to get the girl, crazy..." Kevin said, producing a slight giggle. They instantly caught each other eyes, gazing at each other in a trance. Carrie brushed her right hand against Kevin's left cheek and leaned toward him. Her eyes drifted shut as her head drew closer to Kevin, and her heart began to race. She clutched his right hand with a firm grip as her nose brushed up against his. Their lips finally touched, This was it. Her heart seemed like it was gonna burst through her ribcage, and she was trembling so bad she could hear the gurney moving.

"Shit!" was the loud exclamation that interrupted the moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Jason was back. A cloud of frustration surrounded him.

_Damn it Jason, _she quietly cursed.

"What happened?" Kevin inquired.

"I couldn't get a hold of anyone." Jason began, very distraught, "I tried the hotel, their cell, Uncle Collin, everybody I could think to call. Not a single fucking one of them answered." He pounded his fist against one of the bars on the gurney, dislodging it off of it's chocks by a fraction of an inch.

"Relax, Jason." Kevin calmly replied, "Panicking won't do us any good here."

"Panicking?" Jason continued, this time even more aggressive, "I'm only coming to grips with the possibility of my friends and relatives being either dumped into the ocean, or toe-tagged in some mass grave somewhere. I don't know about you, but I think I've got plenty to be 'panicking' about." He made a quotation mark gesture at the end of his sentence.

"You think you're the only one?" Kevin came at his friend more forcefully, "I haven't been able to contact my dad at all since last night. I don't even know what went on in that part of town. Believe me I'm dealing with the same possibility, and so is she. So calm down and drop this whole drama queen gig, 'cause it won't do us any good."

"Oh my god, just shut up." Jason scolded him. "I know damn well enough that's not you talking, but that air-headed succubus slobbering all over your bandages."

"Jason, that's enough." Kevin interjected.

"Look, I'm glad you finally found yourself a girl that's interested in you, but if you're willing to throw your old pal under the bus at every turn, then you can just..."

"Could you stop talking for one _fucking _minute?" Carrie shouted.

"The succubus speaks!" Jason looked away and raised his two arms.

"Yeah the succubus speaks alright," Carrie stood up from the gurney and got in Jason's face, "Because everyone is sick of hearing the village _idiot_ and how his shit doesn't stink!"

"What," Jason's face pursed up in an angry frown, "You gonna slap me again?"

Without diverting her gaze, Carrie drove her left knee full force into Jason's crotch. He immediately keeled over in the fetal position, wincing in pain and clutching between his legs.

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" An unfamiliar voice exclaimed from nearby. It appeared to be a nurse that was tending to another patient. She immediately rushed over to them and lifted Jason off of the paved ground. "You guys need to leave right now!"

"What, leave?" Jason replied, his face showing disgust.

"We've got people who are under all sorts of trauma here." The young lady explained, "You guys are just getting too rambunctious and it's keeping us from doing our jobs. We can't have anybody in this area causing a ruckus."

"Well get her out of here!" Jason exclaimed, pointing at Carrie, "She's the one mackin' on patients and kicking people in the nuts!"

"From what I've seen, I don't blame her one bit." The nurse turned toward him and crossed her arms, "Now if you want to argue with me, I'll be more than happy to call security and let them deal with your little attitude."

"Fine." Jason reluctantly acknowledged the order, struggling to walk as he made his way through the corridor of partitioned beds and through the entrance of the giant military tent. Carrie kept a substantial distance between herself and Jason, the nurse walking beside her.

"Look, I'm really sorry about all of this." Carrie apologized to the nurse, "He's been a jerk all day and I guess I just lost it for a second."

"Uh-huh, say no more." The nurse assured her, "I wouldn't be lettin' no man talk to me like that, either."

"Well thank you for that, at least." Carrie said and walked toward the door.

"Are you gonna be okay out there?" The nurse caught her mid-stride, "If you want me to, I can talk to some people and find you a place to crash. You look like you don't have a place to sleep tonight."

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks anyway." Carrie looked back as she continued to walk.

"Alright, just be careful. All kinds of crazy fools runnin' the streets." The nurse said as Carrie left the tent. Carrie walked by Jason, who was crunched up on the ground and smoking a cigarette.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Jason scolded Carrie.

"Don't talk to me right now, Jason." Carrie replied as she continued walking.

"So you're gonna throw out a little _Rochambeau_ move and then turn your back to me? Figures." He shook his head and continued to smoke.

"Keep it up and that'll be the least of your worries!" She turned to face Jason, balling up her right fist.

"You gonna take a swing at me?" Jason replied as he stood up and walked to Carrie, stopping at a point where his face was just inches from hers. For a long period of tense silence, he directed a piercing gaze at her without even blinking.

"I can't take this anymore." Carrie stepped back, relaxing her fist, "I'm gone, out of here. I'd rather go it alone than deal with you any longer! I just hope for your sake that Kevin has more patience for your child-like behavior than I do. See you in Hell, Jason." Carrie turned to walk away into the darkness.

"Go ahead, leave!" Jason exclaimed, "I hope you get fuckin' mauled out there! Meanwhile, while you're tucked away somewhere pouting like a spoiled schoolgirl, me and Kevin will be finding _constructive_ was to survive this place!"

She mustered all her strength to keep herself from decapitating the boy, only because she knew that would feed his disrespect even more. She was simply fed up with his ego, and in her anger she wanted nothing more than to see him swallowed up into the earth by another aftershock.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she wandered aimlessly, leaving the bustling makeshift hospital in the distance. Darkness had settled upon San Bernardino, and with the power grid out of commission the only lighting provided was from the massive, generator-powered floodlights pockmarked across the parking lot. The sounds of sirens, helicopters, and public-address speeches created a cacophony of bedlam around her. She paced quietly, tears now streaming down her face, dodging military and civilian personnel in a mad dash toward the triage center. Displaced citizens crowded the street and the park, forming large masses of bodies in various forms of distress. Given the urgency of the moment, Carrie managed to remain unnoticed.

Her journey took her to a covered bus stop that was surprisingly intact. She brushed a few large pieces of broken glass off of the bench and sat down, letting her rampant emotions run their course. Carrie leaned back against a post and spoke unintelligibly to herself.

"Hey pretty lady," A grainy male voice startled her, "What you doing out here all alone?"

She turned to face him. He looked nothing short of unkempt, wearing a tattered tank-top and jeans, sporting a frazzled mane, and lacking shoes. A lit cigarette dangled from his mouth and a pungent scent of alcohol accompanied him.

"I just need some fresh air." She replied, "And some privacy."

"C'mon now." He staggered closer to Carrie and managed a devious smile, "I know what you really want. You need lovin', and you need it bad. Now open them pretty legs!"

"Excuse me?" She scoffed, "If I needed _that_, I certainly wouldn't be asking _you_."

"Ooh, feisty little vixen." He halted and his grin turned to a menacing frown, "Guess I'll have to do this the hard way."

The man leaped forward, forcing Carrie down on the bench and pinning her arms to her side.

* * *

"How much further?" Leon spoke between heavy breaths.

"Should be much longer before we're there." Jimmie also showing exhaustion as he replied.

"Have you heard anything else from Victor?" Leon said.

"I told him to contact me and I haven't heard back." Jimmie explained as he labored through the small tunnel, barely wide enough for a single human body to crawl through.

The party of four had wandered for what seemed like an eternity through a subterranean maze of concrete pipes, stopping every once in a while to ease their burning lungs and aching muscles. Jimmie led the way ahead of Myra and Gabriel, while Leon stayed at the back of the line for protection. With nighttime setting in, it was becoming increasingly difficult to see down the series of long meandering pipes. It also heightened the state of fear within Myra's stomach. To her they were doing nothing but wandering aimlessly, backtracking repeatedly until they succumbed to exhaustion or illness. At this point she prayed for their survival just so she would finally have the chance to have a very harsh discussion with her husband.

They arrived at a large basin – a familiar site at various points in their trek through the network, indicating street access – and dispersed along the wall. Jimmie elevated himself to the ceiling and tip-toed to a small grate. He pushed it open to accommodate the width of his head and peeked outside. Within seconds, he lowered himself back down and looked toward his three companions.

"We're here! Finally, we're here." Jimmie exclaimed ecstatically.

"Thank God." Leon replied. "How close are we?"

"We're just outside the park grounds." Jimmie informed Leon, "It'll take a minute to get my bearings, though, because I can't see the XP."

"How's it look out there." Leon asked.

"Looks pretty clear to me." Jimmie said, "Got some pedestrians, but doesn't look like anything serious outside."

"Okay, then. What are we waiting for, let's get out of here!"

The four exited the storm drain into an empty parking lot that looked upon an expanse of lush greenery. Ecstatic, they embraced each other in their joy. For the first time in recent memory, the possibility of staying alive was very real. In a fraction of a second, however, that hope was dashed as pieces of asphalt exploded in a straight line in their vicinity. Above them, the sound of a military helicopter reverberated into the far reaches of the skies.

"Take cover!" Jimmie yelled as they scrambled behind a nearby dumpster enclosed by a brick wall.

* * *

"Get off of me, you pervert!" Carrie exclaimed, wrestling fervently with her attacker.

"Keep it comin' sweetie." The man kissed her on the cheek, "I love how you put up a fight!" Carrie continued to resist his aggressive advance, but could only do so much without the use of her arms. The attacker began to slide his left hand up her skirt, grazing the tips of his fingers along her genitals.

"Help! This guy's trying to rape me over here! Somebody fucking help me!" Carrie managed to scream at the top of her lungs before the attacker placed his other hand over her mouth. In spite of this, she still forced out a blood-curdling yell.

"They can't hear you." The man said as he brought his face close enough to touch his victim, "Even if they could, they wouldn't care. Nobody cares anymore. But I'll teach you how to care if you just let me, baby."

She gave up her effort at resisting as she felt the man's fingers slip inside her. Her skin began to crawl as he slid his fingers back and forth. She began to sob uncontrollably, unable to cope with the feeling of disgust that enveloped her. Her left arm began to drift behind her, feeling one of the shards of glass brushing against her knuckle. _Bingo_!

She feigned a slight moan as her rapist continued to have his way with her, hoping to keep him occupied as she made an attempt to pick up the glass. She slowly picked it up, trying not to make any noise as she wrapped her hand around the end opposite the point in a firm grasp. She moaned quicker and louder as she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the rapist undoing his zipper with his left hand. She opened her eyes, catching the man's gaze and crunching her face into a particularly mean look. At the behest of her attacker, she let out an earth-shattering battle cry as she drove the shard of glass deep into his side.

His expression froze, the life within his eyes steadily draining out. A wash of blood trickled out of the large wound and soaked Carrie. The man let out a faint grunt as she freed her right arm and pushed away his corpse, breaking the shard of glass at the surface of the wound. She rose to her feet, towering above the lifeless body of her attacker. Looking at the blood on her clothes and her hands, a grim, unfamiliar feeling overwhelmed her.

_Oh my God, _she thought, _what have I done_?

As the adrenaline wore off and rational thought returned, she slowly began to realize that she had actually taken the life of another human being. Instinctively she started running full speed into the darkness of the ruined San Bernardino streets, the deafening sound of sirens and anarchy creating a shroud around her.

* * *

"My master, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes... come here young one."

"What is it?"

"You've no doubt heard of the tragedy that has befallen the United States?"

"The earthquake in California, correct? Yes, I've been monitoring the situation very closely. In fact I was hoping to speak with you in detail about a few developments."

"Be my guest."

"Sir, the damage itself has reached far beyond California. Several major cities in the Western United States – even as far away as Denver, Boise, and Albuquerque – have declared sections of their population centers as disaster areas. More still are reporting large pockets of civil unrest in the poorest neighborhoods. We've received little information from California itself but from what we can gather, virtually every structure in the entire state has been completely destroyed. However, that's not the most interesting development..."

"And what is... young one?"

"Just take a look at these satellite photos. As you can see, the quake has clearly altered the geography of the West Coast."

"My... God. That's..."

"...Los Angeles. Along with San Diego, the most populated city along the U.S. Pacific Coast now resides beneath the ocean."

"Hmm... this is an interesting new challenge that lay before us. We'll have to alter our plans for the United States."

"What do you mean... Master?"

"I mean that the Land of the Free is quickly spiraling into oblivion. All we have to do is let everything run it's course, erstwhile monitor the situation from afar until it is time to proceed to the next phase of the master plan."

"Master, what will become of the Drea..."

"We needn't concern ourselves with such matters. Not now, anyway. We're not yet ready for that yet, and neither are the Americans. The time will come around eventually, but in the meantime we must keep our hearts and minds in the present."

"I see, sir. What orders am I to give to our agents in Washington?"

"Tell them... for now, tell them to fall in with the relief effort and await further orders. Nature may be playing into our hands, but we still need to make sure the Americans... shall I say, 'stay the course'."

"Absolutely, master."

* * *

_Author's Note (extended):_

"So Brian, how's that novel coming? You know, the one you've been working on for three years?"_ Stewie Griffin character quote from Family Guy._

_Yeah, it's pretty much a given that not one, but two different apologies are owed here. _

_The first, and most obvious one: __**what the hell, man?**_

_Yeah I know, I explicitly remember saying that this chapter would be done in two weeks. Not a problem, right? For those of you just now stumbling on to this story, that was referring to two weeks from __December 24, 2007__, the completion date of the second chapter, "The Bowels of Hell." So what happened? Well, there's actually a pretty damn good explanation as to why I haven't updated in over two years. Being an employee of the always-lucrative construction industry, I ran into some hard times. As a result, I no longer had the means to pay for an internet connection, therefore it ended up being disconnected. In spite of this, I kept on chugging along, hoping to be a few chapters ahead of the game so you guys wouldn't have to wait until I'm done writing before I release another chapter. Yep, that was my big plan. Well... For a while, anyway. Simply put, after completing "Enter Chaos" and the upcoming Chapter 04 – XXXXXXX (Sorry guys, you'll have to wait a bit for the title), I just lost interest in _Rising Force. _I hit a point where I just ran out of ideas and decided to take a little break from writing for a bit. _

_(Fun fact: this chapter was actually completed back in March 2008, the next one in early April '08. I just never had the means to post them.) _

_However, the hair up my ass that was _Rising Force _still remained, and eventually the itch caused by it became too hard to be ignored. To tell the truth, this story is simply too big to just give up and throw in the towel_. Rising Force _had, in effect, become a part of my everyday psyche. I can't tell you how many times I would sit around and find that Kevin Roscoe, Leon Woods, and all the other characters within this dystopian universe frequently crept into my thoughts. I've probably spent hours, hell... __days__, letting my mind wander within their respective adventures. Eventually I got back into it and started writing again. So in summary, _Rising Force _is back, baby!_

_And that leads me to my second apology: __**dude, 14,000+ word chapter? D'oh!**_

_Yes, I am fully aware that 14K words is a bit much for one chapter. Simply put, there was a LOT of story needing to be told in this chapter. For one, Leon Woods needed to be brought into the story in greater detail (NOTE: those of you familiar with the Deus Ex backstory already know the role Leon Woods plays in the grander scheme of things). He needed a plot line and difficulties of his own that couldn't really wait until later in _Rising Force_. Yes, I probably could have given Leon such an introduction earlier in the story, but it just didn't seem right. The focus of "Prologue" and "The Bowels of Hell", in my mind, needed to be on the SoCal disaster as it happened at Ground Zero, and nothing else. The two "Prologue" appearances by Leon were intended merely as a preview of things to come. _

_So why not just focus "Enter Chaos" around only Leon? I felt it would be best for Kevin's and Leon's respective plot lines if they ran concurrently. Otherwise, one set of characters is basically sitting on the back-burner while another steals the show for a good chunk of time. Given how I chose to end "The Bowels of Hell", that approach just didn't seem like a good idea._

_So thanks, everyone, for being patient. I'm sure some of you have been going crazy, wondering when the next _Rising Force_ chapter is gonna come out. Either that or you've pretty much said "screw it" and forgot it ever even existed. Either way, I'll try my best to update this 500-pound gorilla on my back. _

_Next chapter will be out in two weeks._

_(Wonder how many people call shenanigans on that one...)_


	4. Follow the Stars

_Disclaimer: Deus Ex is owned by Eidos Interactive and Ion Storm. Kudos to both for creating such an excellent, chronically addicting game_. _SPECIAL ADVISORY: Contains disturbing scenes.

* * *

_

**Olympia, Washington**

**Late evening hours**

"Unidentified pedestrians." The helicopter's loudspeaker pierced the skies above the park, "You are entering a restricted area. Please return to your homes immediately. Any civilians found in Watershed Park are assumed to be engaging in criminal activity and will be dealt with forcibly."

"Son of a bitch!" Jimmie exclaimed as he pounded his fist against the cement.

"What the fuck happened?" Leon shouted at Jimmie, "This was supposed to be a safe extraction point!"

"I know, damn it!" Jimmie recoiled, "I thought it was too! Cops must have snuffed it out before we got here, shit!"

"Yeah, well you got a backup plan?" Leon said, this time approaching Jimmie even more aggressively.

"Hold on, let me try something" Jimmie said as he pulled a cell phone out of his jeans pocket. He dialed a number and pressed the phone up to his right ear, covering his left ear with his hand as the phone rang continually on the other end. "Shit, Victor, answer your damn phone!" Jimmie yelled into the receiver.

"Excuse me people," a mysterious voice came from the other side of the dumpster, "Mind telling me what you guys are doing back there?"

"I'll tell you what we're _not _doing." Leon replied as he looked up through the grate. It was a police officer, armed with a MP-5 submachine gun. "Bothering anybody. So why don't you just move on out of here and leave us alone."

"Leon!" Myra fiercely whispered at him from a far corner of the wall.

"Sir, you have the right to remain silent." The police officer responded to Leon's defiance, "I suggest you use it."

"What, we're under arrest?" Jimmie interjected, "We haven't done anything wrong!"

"Mister, Watershed Park is off limits to civilians." The armor-clad officer continued, "I am not permitted to disclose anything further."

"No, I'm not going anywhere!" Jimmie refused once again, "Not until you tell me what the fuck's going on!"

"I'm only going to say this once, sir: come out from behind there with your hands up. I will not hesitate to use deadly force."

"Kiss my ass, you fucking oinker!"

Jimmie revealed himself from concealment behind the dumpster, brandishing his Lorcin pistol and facing the cop. He fired two shots in rapid succession, piercing through the officer's face shield and penetrating the bridge of his nose, killing him instantly. Jimmie immediately ran over to the dead police officer, grabbing his MP-5 and five magazines of ammunition. He also found a combat knife, a can of pepper spray, a cigarette lighter with a half-empty pack of cigarettes, and two concussion grenades. As he gathered his spoils, the hovering helicopter fired on Jimmie. He scrambled fervently, the adrenaline causing him to stumble as he made his way back behind the dumpster.

"Got some goodies." Jimmie said as he dropped the weaponry to the ground, taking a cigarette from the newly-acquired pack and lighting one up. "You want one, too?" He pointed the pack at Leon.

"No thanks, I'm not a big smoker." Leon motioned his right hand toward the pack.

"Suit yourself." He placed the cigarettes in his jeans pocket.

"Now what do we do?" Leon asked, looking down at the assortment of armaments at his feet.

"We gotta get rid of that 'copter, first of all." Jimmie spoke, cigarette dangling from his mouth, "Any ideas?"

"How low is the 'copter flying?" Leon inquired, huddling next to the dumpster.

"Hold on." Jimmie slowly peeked his head over the top of the dumpster, just high enough to get a glimpse at the helicopter. He braced himself with his arms along the lid, holding steady for a few seconds before crouching back down. "I'd say about a buck fifty, a deuce. Something like that."

"About 150 feet." Leon whispered to himself, and then said to Jimmie. "Are these grenades live?"

"Yeah, I think so. Why, what are you thinking?"

"That chopper's flying low enough where I could damage it with one of these grenades."

"You sure about that? Even this low, it's still about 80 yards to throw that son-of-a-bitch."

"Yeah, but the blast radius should be big enough to catch the copter."

"Worth a try, then. Be careful, Leon."

Leon grabbed a grenade, walking in a prone position past Jimmie to a place to where he could get a clear line of sight on the helicopter. He concealed himself at the edge of the dumpster away from the helicopter. He took a deep breath, pulled the pin on the grenade, and heaved it in the direction of the helicopter and ducked back behind the dumpster. As he finished a three-count, he heard the explosion he had been waiting for. Slowly, he peeked his head back out from the cover of the dumpster. His heart sank, as the helicopter was still flying straight and true.

"Fuck!" He cursed as he leaned against the wall next to Jimmie.

"What happened?" Jimmie looked over at Leon, tossing the cigarette on to the asphalt.

"Missed the bastard." Leon said with his gaze pointed slightly skyward, taking heavy and labored breaths. "I can't get a good line on it."

"You think..." Jimmie was cut off by the sound of metal against metal. The helicopter's minigun was shooting at them once again.

"Shit, they found us!" Leon exclaimed as he moved over to shield Myra and Gabriel.

"This thing ain't gonna last long against that gun!" Jimmie screamed frantically, pointing to the sky.

"Jimmie, stay here with them!" Leon shouted while grabbing the MP-5 and a magazine of ammo.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna go out there and draw it's fire. When I give the word, you grab my wife and kid and follow me!"

"You think it'll work?"

"Trust me on this." Leon said as he placed the extra ammo in his jacket, "You just make sure they don't get hurt." He rushed out into the open, spraying controlled bursts of gunfire at the helicopter as he ran.

"Daddy, where are you going?" Gabriel let out a piercing cry, resting his head on his mother's shoulder.

"Relax, kiddo. Leon'll be fine out there." Jimmie rested his hands on Gabriel's shoulder, attempting to comfort the child.

"Do you guys even know what the hell you're doing?" Myra verbally jabbed at Jimmie.

"Yeah, I did two tours in the Middle East." Jimmie reassured her, "This shit's a cakewalk."

"Go, go, go!" Leon yelled from outside of the dumpster. Jimmie instantly helped the woman and child up to their feet, grabbed the remaining grenade and the machine gun ammo, and led the way out into the open to catch up with Leon, who still continued to fire upon the helicopter.

"Keep moving!" He yelled out, motioning his three companions ahead of him in order to take the rear, "Take cover behind that building over there." He pointed at a small portable structure concealed by a patch of small trees. Leon kept a considerably slower pace than his comrades, keeping the helicopter occupied until the threesome were hid away safely. Once they were behind the building he made a beeline to their hideaway, letting go of the trigger and turning his back toward the helicopter. He quickly turned a corner leading to the wall that faced away from the helicopter's flight path, where he saw the three huddled under a wooden staircase that led up to the elevated entry to the building.

"Glad to see you're alright." Jimmie whispered as Leon crawled into the space with them.

"Yeah, won't be long until they call their buddies, though." Leon replied, gasping for air at this point.

"Good point." Jimmie acknowledged, "We still need to get that copter out of the sky, or else it's gonna be an early funeral for all of us. You think you can get another shot at it?"

"It's worth as try." Leon said, "You get that other grenade?"

"Yeah it's in my pocket." Jimmie handed Leon the grenade, "I got an idea, though. Gimme that gun."

"What's your plan?" Leon asked as he handed Jimmie the MP-5.

"I'll go on the other of the building and get it to start firing again. When I do, you come around this side and belt the copter with another grenade. I think I can bring it in a bit closer and give you a better shot."

"Good plan."

"You thought of it first, sort of." Jimmie winked at Leon, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good, let's rock!" Jimmie crawled out from under the staircase and eased himself along the wall leading away from Leon. As Jimmie was getting himself in position, Leon crawled out and crouch-walked to the opposite end of the building, waiting for the sound of the MP-5 as his cue. Sure enough, the staccato of the machine gun broke the silence of the night and sprung Leon around the corner, to the side wall that faced away from the helicopter. As it's distance from the building started to close in, it's velocity slowed. Leon saw as good an opportunity as any. He maneuvered himself away from the building into a clear spot, nothing between him but open air as he kissed the grenade. _Don't let me down baby_, he thought to himself as he lobbed the grenade with all of his strength at the helicopter. His heart raced as the grenade made a dead line toward the chopper. At that moment, time slowed to a crawl. He took a deep breath and held it in, reaching the end of his three-count.

_Boom!_

The loud explosion rocked the skies. Leon stood still, waiting for the smoke to clear to assess his results. Sure enough, he heard the sound of straining machinery that he had wanted to hear. As the smoke faded away, he could make out a heavily damaged rotor. The helicopter struggled with all of it's might, fighting the gravity that now overpowered the machine in order to remain airborne. In the end, it's attempts proved to be in vain, as the helicopter hit the ground with a loud crash that echoed across the landscape.

Congratulating himself, Leon made his way back to the hiding spot. As he crawled back under the staircase, he saw that Jimmie had arrived before him.

"Great shot." Jimmie said as he shook Leon's hand, "You've got a hell of an arm on you."

"First-Team All-State Quarterback, 2011." Leon replied.

"It definitely shows." Jimmie continued to congratulate his partner, "Should have tried out for the Seahawks!"

"Wanted to, but the Army found me first." Leon acknowledged.

With the success of their skirmish with the helicopter, Jimmie and Leon decided to rest for a quick moment before planning their next move. The sound of Jimmie's mobile phone ringing broke their collective silence.

"Talk to me." Jimmie said into the receiver.

"I don't have much time, so I'll make this short." The voice on the other end spoke frantically.

"Who is this?" Jimmie whispered loudly.

"John Brown." Said the man, using an obvious alias with Jimmie. It was Cage.

"Holy shit!" Jimmie exclaimed, drawing the disapproval of his companions, "Man, I've been trying to talk to you all afternoon. What the fuck's happened here? Cops have got the park locked down tight."

"I'll explain later, in more detail." Cage continued to speak quickly. "Are you traveling alone?"

"No, I've got three more people with me." Jimmie lowered his voice to conceal the conversation from any potential outsiders, "A sympathizer and his family. Where the hell are you?"

"I can't reveal our location over the phone." Cage responded, "Look to the horizon. You should be able to find a faint blue light in the distance."

Jimmie crawled out from underneath the staircase and surveyed the skies around him. After nearly a minute of scanning the horizon, he found what he was looking for: a tiny, pulsating blue light masquerading itself inside of a patch of evergreen trees. "I think I see it." He whispered, crawling back under the staircase.

"Excellent." Cage replied in a calm, monotone voice, "I'll contact you soon." The phone clicked dead on the other end. Jimmie placed the phone back in his pocket and returned to the skirted paneling where Leon and his family were still crouched.

"What's the word?" Leon whispered, leaning across Myra to face Jimmie.

"Cage is holed up somewhere across that field. See that light?" Jimmie replied, also whispering while turning his gaze into the endless expanse of greenery adjacent to their hiding spot.

"Blue one, right?" Leon inquired.

"Yeah, the one that's flashing." Jimmie whispered.

"Damn the luck." Leon quietly cursed.

"What's the matter?" Jimmie said quietly, showing a hint of surprise.

"We'll be eaten alive before we make it even a quarter of the way." Leon spoke in dejection, "That's gotta be at least 500 yards to cross."

"Leon!" Myra interrupted frantically.

"What, baby?" Leon acknowledged.

"There's people moving in the trees." She urgently pointed outside of the staircase, muting the last few words. Leon made his way across his wife and son to a point that looked through a gap between the stair steps. There, he could make out the silhouettes of five more armor-clad police officers. One of them was talking into the microphone housed inside his helmet.

"Command, this is Sergeant O'Connor." He spoke with a weak drawl, "I am in pursuit of four unauthorized civilians, two of them armed and extremely dangerous."

His radio crackled indistinctly.

"One adult male Caucasian, armed." O'Connor responded, "Another adult male, African-American and also armed. With them are two more African-Americans, an adult female and a young boy, hostile status unknown. Armed subjects have forcibly resisted multiple attempts to apprehend them. Officer down, AH-64 out of action with crew status undetermined as of now. Requesting mobilization of all standing officers inside or within the vicinity of Watershed Park."

The radio crackled once again, with another garbled response.

"Roger that, Command." O'Connor acknowledged. He looked to a pair of officers to his far left and signaled them, to which they immediately dispersed in separate directions at a quick and steady pace, one of them heading directly across the hiding spot that housed Leon and his three companions.

"What's going on?" Jimmie whispered just loud enough for Leon to hear.

"We've got company." Leon whispered back, still focused through the staircase, "Three cops at my twelve o-clock, all stationary."

Jimmy delicately positioned himself next to Leon and peeked through the same gap. "Oh man." Jimmie whispered to himself, exposing a heavy sense of dejection, "I think we're screwed."

The two men turned their backs away from the situation, hunching themselves underneath the rise of the stairs.

"What do you think, Jimmie?" Leon turned to his partner.

Jimmie laid his head forward in silence, burying his face inside his hands for a brief moment. He let out a faint sigh and then turned his gaze skyward. "Only way out is through."

"What?" Leon replied, showing great confusion.

"We haul ass", said Jimmie, still looking up, "Across that field. We won't have any cover, so all four of us'll need to kick in the afterburners."

"That's suicide, Jimmie!" Leon hissed.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Jimmie snapped back, "But I'd rather take my chances out there."

"That'd be fine and dandy if it was just us", Leon responded, "But we've got two unarmed civilians with precisely _zero_ military training that are _our _responsibility. We start taking fire, and I'm willing to bet they won't last thirty seconds!"

"As opposed to what, hole up here and wait to be cuffed and tossed in a ten by eight cell? I'm sorry Leon, I'm not willing to go down like that! I know you care about your family and everything, and I respect that. But I guarantee that if we're captured, they won't be any easier on the lady or the little man than they would be on us."

Leon exhaled a long, sustained breath. Jimmie couldn't be any more right. This was their last chance to escape Watershed alive, regardless of how clumsy or reckless Jimmie's plan seemed. "Okay Jimmie", Leon finally replied, "Here's how we're gonna do this."

"All ears, chief." Jimmie acknowledged.

"First of all, give me the machine gun." Leon ordered his accomplice, "You stay here and provide covering fire for the three of us to escape. Once we're gone, you get out of here and start following us."

"Sounds good, for the most part." Jimmie offered his take, "Only problem is, you'd be better off with the Lorcin if I'm gonna be last man out. You'll be shootin' air with the 'spray-and-pray' if you get too far ahead. Not as much range."

"Fine then, hand over the Lorcin." Immediately upon Leon's request, Jimmie reached inside his coat and produced the small, nine-millimeter pistol. Leon removed the clip from the pistol, simultaneously taking out a Bryco clip of ammo from inside his coat and ejected the bullets contained within, as the Bryco speed-loader was in many ways incompatible with the present firearm. He placed the bullets inside the clip for the Lorcin handgun and delicately slipped it inside the handle of the gun, as to not arouse the attention of the nearby police until due time. He then crawled over to his family, placing each hand on Gabriel and Myra, respectively.

"Sweetie, I need you to listen carefully." Leon whispered to his wife, trying his best to maintain a calm demeanor.

"I'm listening." Myra replied lazily with her gaze turned away from Leon.

"We're meeting up with a few..." Leon paused for a second, "C_olleagues_ of mine at the other side of this field. Once we find them, they'll be able to get us out of town without being harmed."

"Whatever, Leon." She uttered a weak response, still refusing to look her husband in the eye.

"What the hell's up this time?" Leon replied sharply.

"Baby, cover your ears." She ordered her son, who promptly replied. Myra finally turned to face Leon, eyes ablaze with anger, "Listen here, you son of a bitch: I'm getting sick and tired of being shot at, of crawling through storm drains, scurrying around like a damn cockroach, and having to calm my son down every time there's a big 'crash' or 'boom' that scares the livin' daylights out of the poor kid! Now I don't know what the hell you've got yourself mixed up in with these 'colleagues' of yours, but I swear to Almighty God if it ends up getting Gabe killed, I'm not gonna rest easy until every last one of them is dug up in a hole! Until then, I'll go along with your little gun show. And if, by some crazy miracle, the three of us wake up alive tomorrow, you better have some good answers for all of this!"

"Mommy, can I let go of my ears now?" Gabriel whispered, still pressing his hands to the sides of his head. Myra lightly tugged at the boy's left arm without diverting her gaze away from Leon. Taking the hint, he placed the other arm back to his side on his own.

"Hey little man, lean in for a sec." Leon turned to his son.

"What is it, daddy?" Gabriel huddled up to Leon, giving his undivided attention.

"You remember that track meet you won last summer?" Leon asked Gabriel.

"The one where I out-runned all the fifth-graders." Gabriel replied.

"Yeah, that one." Leon acknowledged, "I need you to pretend you're back on that track, racing all them older boys for the big prize."

"But daddy", Gabriel began to sob, "Those fifth-graders wasn't shooting at me."

"I know, and these guys won't either. You just hang with your momma and I'll be right behind ya, I promise. Just be strong, champ." Leon leaned in to give his son a strong hug.

"Guys", Jimmie chimed in, "I know you guys are having a Hallmark moment over there, but we gotta move our asses!"

Leon pulled away from his son and faced Jimmie, holding up three fingers. He pulled back his ring finger, prompting Jimmie to disengage the safety on the MP-5. As Leon pulled back his middle finger to indicate a "one" count, Jimmie positioned himself into a vantage point that gave him line-of-sight through the gap under the rise of the stair steps. Jimmie let out a deep breath and gave the trigger a quick squeeze, spraying out a volley of rounds at the three cops positioned away from the staircase. The officers quickly sprung into action, returning fire almost instantly.

"Go, go, fucking go!" Jimmie screamed at Leon and his family as he tucked himself back inside the staircase. After gathering himself, he suck his body outside once again to fire three more bursts. Feeling Jimmie had the officers well enough occupied, Leon grabbed his wife and child and sprinted out into the open, maintaining a slower pace than his two accomplices to let them take the lead. As soon as they were at a comfortable distance, he increased his running speed, keeping watch at the terrain in front of him in case there were other riot police ahead of them.

As he surveyed the landscape, he notice the barking sound of the MP-5 was getting closer. He turned his head to see Jimmie in his peripheral vision. Out of the corner of his eye, he also noticed the three officers chasing Jimmie in full stride.

"Leon!" Jimmie yelled, "Bogeys inbound on my six, comin' in hot. Cover me!" At Jimmie's frantic request, Leon pulled out the Lorcin and fired three successive rounds at the officers. The first round missed entirely, while the second and third struck one of the officers, immobilizing him. His fellow policemen rushed to aid the downed riot cop, ending their pursuit. With the threat neutralized, Leon took the time to estimate their current distance from Cage's rendezvous point.

The blue light looked plenty closer than it had been less than a minute before, but he still guessed that they had at least 1000 feet to cover before they arrived. Leon chugged along, his legs already starting to feel heavy. Ahead of him, Myra and Gabriel seemed to be faring slightly better.

"Hey, Leon!" Jimmie exclaimed once again, "You might wanna take the point. I just heard one of our buddies call for backup!"

"No problem!" Leon loudly replied, as Jimmie was more than fifty yards behind everybody else, "Myra, Gabe, get behind me!" The woman and child immediately obliged, briefly slowing their pace until Leon surged past them. He looked around the vast landscape once more, hoping to get a jump on any new threats that could pop up at any given moment. All of a sudden, the startling sound of a bullet strike initiated a slight stumble to interrupt Leon's pace. He looked across the patches trees that pockmarked the vast field, but was unable to ascertain a discernible source.

"Jimmie, heads up!" Leon yelled behind him, "I think they got a sniper on us!"

"Yeah, I think so too." Jimmie replied, still trailing by a considerable margin, "I just heard one zing past me!"

_Shit, _Leon cursed to himself, _that was quick. _He looked behind him once more to get a bead on their distance. They were past the halfway point of the trek. Another bulled pierced the air behind him.

"Jimmie, hurry your ass up!" Leon turned to Jimmie, "You're a sitting duck back there!"

"I know!" Jimmie yelled back, "Got the 'burners goin' full blast tryin' to catch up! You see anyone yet?"

"I ain't seen shit!" Leon cursed, "Whoever's shootin' at us got themselves hid away pretty good!" Leon fought the fatigue that began to weigh him down. His lungs and legs were killing him at this point. The heavy flow of adrenaline through his veins was all that kept him going at this point. Everything inside of him wanted to live to see another day. He had come too far to fail. Against the will of his aching body, he pushed on with all of his willpower. After all, Leon knew he could never live with himself if any harm managed to come to his family. He looked ahead at the flashing light once more. They had only a few hundreds yards between them and freedom.

"Leon, incoming!" Jimmie exclaimed frantically.

"What is it?" Leon turned his head backwards once again.

"Police cruiser, inbound on your left flank!" Jimmie reported from his back-marker position. Sure enough, he was right. The rumbling of a V-8 engine grew louder on his left side at an alarming rate. He cocked his head slightly over his shoulder and saw the police car quickly gaining on them. A mere fraction of a second later, he heard a brief exchange of automatic weapons fire from a point just outside of his field of vision. He spun around 180 degrees to see Jimmie laying face-first on the turf and the police cruiser moving full-speed toward his direct left.

"Jimmie," Leon screamed across the field, "Can you hear me?"

"Leon, watch out!" Jimmie responded, ignoring the question, "Passenger side's got a sixteen!" As soon as Jimmie finished his sentence, the car reached Leon's left flank and sprayed a heavy burst of rifle fire at Leon and his family members. He halted immediately, grabbing Myra and Gabriel and diving into the turf. Crawling ahead of his two companions, he fired three successive rounds at the passenger window that exposed the rifleman. All three shots subsequently missed, impacting in a straight line along the broad side of the cruiser. The car steered away from his flank and directly ahead of his position. As the passenger side faced Leon, another string of rifle rounds pierced the air surrounding the three.

"Roll to the side!" Leon shouted to Myra and Gabriel, "A moving target is harder to hit!" His two family members immediately obliged, rolling their bodies along the ground in unison to dodge the gunfire. The cruiser was now circling them in a clockwise motion, keeping the passenger side trained on their group while the rifleman continued firing in quick bursts. Leon waited until he stopped to reload before firing three more shots at the passenger side. Once again all three ricocheted off of the cruiser. Leon cursed himself, realizing that he now had only one bullet left in the Lorcin. Reloading the pistol would only give the officers plenty of time to take down Leon and his crew. A new wave of gunfire erupted from the passenger side. A splash of dirt blasted Leon in the face, prompting them into a new process of evasive maneuvers.

"Keep moving, guys!" Leon continued to instruct his group, "I think the terrain is spoiling this guy's aim!"

Out of the corner of his eye Leon saw Jimmie at a full run, heading for the cop car. Simultaneously, he discovered he had a clear line-of-sight at the cruiser's right-rear held stationary for a quick moment, reaching for the pistol and placing the aim point a short distance ahead of the tire. _One bullet left, _Leon thought, _make it count. _He took a deep breath, releasing slowly before squeezing the trigger. He closed his eyes as soon as the bullet discharged, waiting for the sound that signaled success. A loud _pop_ sound came after only a minute fraction of a second, though at his heightened state of anxiety, that small amount of time seemed like a century to Leon. The vehicle slowed to a crawl, causing it to oscillate even more now that the tire no longer provided cushioning between the rim and the uneven ground.

The rifleman continued to fire upon Leon's group. However, he had even more difficulty achieving a tight grouping on his targets. Seeing this, Leon ordered his companions to maintain a position that kept them at the opposite end of the "circle" made by the now-wounded cruiser. They continued this process until Jimmie arrived, elevating himself into standing position on the hood of the car and firing multiple bursts of gunfire through the windshield. The occupants twitched and convulsed with every bullet strike until they became enveloped by the shroud of death. The M16-wielding passenger produced one last volley of gunfire before dropping the rifle, while the driver (possibly through involuntary reflex) pushed the accelerator into the floorboard, making it increasingly difficult for Jimmie to keep his balance as he stomped in the remnants of the windshield.

He continued to kick with his right foot, sending successive pellets of broken glass into the cabin of the car. He cleared away the remaining glass at the edges of the windshield with his MP5, then stuck his legs through the newly-created entry point. Sitting on the dash, he maneuvered his upper body into the cabin far enough to where his right had could reach the inside door handle. As soon as the door swung open, Jimmie labored fervently to wrestle the corpse of the driver through the driver-side door. After a few seconds the head finally fell through the doorway, falling outside of the vehicle and releasing it's right foot off of the gas pedal. The natural deceleration, coupled with the resistance from the deflated rear tire, quickly brought the cruiser to a halt.

Jimmie rummaged through the pockets of the dead passenger and found two full clips of 5.56 ammo, a fully-loaded Glock 9mm, and a flashbang grenade. Pocketing the munitions, he exited the cop car and made way to Leon's position, stopping momentarily to grab the M16.

"Glad to see you in one piece." Leon - now on his feet – said to Jimmie as he reunited with his partner.

"I'd love to talk," Jimmie frantically responded, "But we gotta keep moving. Police radio says they got two units inbound, plus they got at least a half-dozen snipers sneakin' around the treeline. Here, take these." Jimmie handed Leon the M16 and the ammo.

"How long before they get here?" Leon asked as he motioned to Gabriel and Myra to run ahead of him.

"I don't know." Jimmie replied, running at Leon's side "But I don't wanna hang around long enough to find out. You take the rear flank and I'll cover the point. Gabe and Myra will stay between us like last time. How much gas you got left in the tank?"

"Let's see: my legs hurt like hell, my lungs are fighting for air, and my heart's about to burst through my chest. But all that's still better than getting shot. Now are you sure Cage is by that beacon?"

"That's what he said to me, anyway. Now with my best guess, that beacon's about 350 feet away. We made it this far, there's no reason we can't finish the job and get out of this murderhole."

"Agreed." Leon replied stoically as Jimmie broke forward to the head of the pack. Leon turned to his observational instincts once again and surveyed the vast field behind him as he trudged on. The rendezvous point was just within reach. _We may win this yet_, Leon thought quietly to himself. What seemed at first to be a suicide mission could actually turn out for the better. Cage's rendezvous point was now within reach, and with that came the comforting prospect of a new day.

In spite of this, Leon still had the sinking feeling that Olympia Police weren't finished with their attempts to apprehend his entourage. They had – after all – taken down a helicopter, immobilized a squad car, and killed almost a dozen troops. Anybody, especially police, would be quite angry about such losses. Clearly, the four would now be hunted down as hardened criminals. His only regret about all of this was the possibility of Myra and Gabriel being sharing the guilt of Leon's and Jimmie's actions. Such was the price of survival.

The quiet once again broke with the sound of automatic weapons fire. Leon turned his gaze to the head of the pack to see Jimmie alternating fire between two points at opposite sides. The two units of riot police had indeed arrived. Leon charged ahead of Myra and Gabriel, taking the flank opposite Jimmie to provide much-needed assistance.

"Looks like that's the RP!" Jimmie shouted while pointing at a tall statue of a US soldier holding an M16 and standing erect. The statue was the centerpiece of the officially-named "Memorial Site for Middle-Eastern Conflicts, Century XXI" that had been built at Watershed Park in 2026. Surrounding the statue were two short, semicircular walls made of marble that contained the etched names of all local military personnel killed in the Afghan, Iraqi, Iranian, and Pakistani Wars combined. On one of the legs of the statue was the flashing blue light that had guided the group to the rendezvous point.

"Do you see anybody?" Leon said to his partner as he fired the M16.

"Not a soul." Jimmie replied, "I betcha he's hiding out."

Leon and Jimmie held the two squads at bay as they maneuvered themselves closer to the war memorial, keeping a slow and steady pace and managing to take down a handful of police in the process.

"Myra, Gabe, head for that statue and take cover behind the wall!" Leon motioned his wife and child as he continued firing the M16. Myra grabbed Gabriel by the hand and rushed him to cover behind one of the semicircular walls that surrounded the memorial statue. Leon and Jimmie followed them at their first opportunity, both sprinting to the memorial and diving behind the wall. As they collected themselves, they came upon a grim sight. Aside from their group, there was nobody else in the vicinity of the war memorial.

"Where the fuck is he?" Jimmie screamed in disbelief, "Cage told me he'd be here!"

"Maybe the cops got here before we did." Leon replied in a somewhat calmer but equally dejected tone.

"Yeah but we'd see fuckin' bodies, wouldn't we?" Jimmie continued his tirade, tossing a spent MP5 clip behind him. The clip struck the beacon light, knocking it off of it's mount and sending it into the concrete floor, causing the bulb to shatter on impact. "That's great," Jimmie raved, "Just fuckin' great! Thanks for havin' our backs Cage, you piss-infested fuckin' flake!"

"Any more bright ideas, Leon?" Myra scolded her husband, "Looks like your little 'colleagues' just left us for dead! Nice going, 'sweetheart'!"

"Babe, just trust me!" Leon gave his best attempt to quiet his distraught wife, "Cage will come through, I know he will."

"'Just trust me, babe. Everything will be alright, I promise.'" Myra mockingly quoted her husband, "That's all you've said all day. And every time, it's led us to another curve-ball that gets us closer to getting arrested or killed. I hate to say this Leon, but if we live through this I don't know if I'll _ever _be able to trust you again!"

"Shit, no more ammo." Jimmie cursed, breaking the inter-spousal argument "Well guys, I guess this is it." He tossed the MP5 to his side and ducked behind the wall, rotating to place his back along the marble enclosure. Once situated, he pulled the Glock out of his pocket and placed the nose of pistol in front of his right ear.

"Jimmie, what the hell are you doing?" Leon shockingly exclaimed.

"Looks like this is our last stand, brother." Jimmie replied in a slow, morbid tone, "These sons-of-bitches'll never take be alive. Been nice knowin' you guys."

"Jimmie, don't do this." Leon persuaded, "A soldier don't take the easy way out. We both know that"

"I'm not a soldier anymore, Leon. We both know that, too."

"What kind of bullshit are you talking, Jimmie? You've done gone completely insane!"

"You have any idea what they're gonna do to us once we're slapped with handcuffs? I'll tell you exactly what they'll do: they're gonna put us away in some black site in Bumfuck, Alaska, wipe our identities off the map, and subject us to every fucked up torture technique they can think of! Think the _Saw_ movies were brutal? Well I got news for you: they ain't got shit on..."

"Daddy, look!" Gabriel exclaimed, interrupting Jimmie's rant.

"What is it, little man?" Leon turned to his son.

"The thing says something." Gabe said as he produced a broken piece of plastic. He tossed it in Leon's direction, hitting the middle of his chest and dropping to the ground. He immediately reached down to pick it up, pulling it close to his face to read a faint etching on the surface.

_FOLLOW THE STARS._

"Jimmie, take my sixteen and hold 'em off for a little longer." Leon spoke as he handed the assault rifle to his partner. He then surveyed the landscape, looking for something – anything – that the clue could possibly be hinting at. He crawled to the opposite semicircle wall, looking over it to see a heavy-duty truck parked on the side of a private road adjacent to the memorial. He delicately maneuvered along the path of the wall, finally stopping at a point where he could read the advertising print on the side of the truck.

_4-STAR LANDSCAPE _

_Serving the Tri-City Area Since 2003_

"_We'll Make it Green Again!" _

_360 GO 4 STAR (360 464 7827) _

Leon pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the side of the truck. It rang only once before picking up.

"Good evening, Four-Star Landscape. How may I help you?" A strangely familiar voice crackled over the receiver.

"It's funny", Leon chuckled, "The chaos has shut down schools, churches, and libraries across the city. But of all things, a landscaping company manages to stay open."

"It was the only cover we had, Leon." Cage dropped his cover routine, "After I contacted you guys, police set up their staging area right next to us and we had to retreat. I take it you guys made it to the memorial?"

"Yeah, safe and sound." Leon said frantically, "But we're pinned down by at least two squads of riot cops. I don't know how much longer we can hold them off."

"Just tell your people to sit tight. I've taken care of everything." Cage hung up before Leon could respond_. What the hell is he talking about, _Leon said to himself as he tucked his phone back in his pocket. He made his way back to the firing line and began to reload the Lorcin pistol.

"Please tell me that was Cage!" Jimmie shouted over the sound of gunfire.

"It was." Leon replied.

"What'd the scumbag have to say for himself?" Jimmie asked in a demeaning tone.

"He said he's 'taken care of everything'" Leon quoted his long-time friend.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Jimmie vocally contemplated as he continued firing.

"Couldn't tell you." Leon replied as he finished loading the handgun, "You still got that Glock?"

"Yeah it's on the ground, next to my knee." Jimmie tilted his head to the left toward the gun. Leon picked it up of the ground, brandishing the Glock in conjunction with Jimmie's Lorcin handgun. He alternated fire between the two pistols, providing comparable supporting fire to the M16 currently wielded by Jimmie. At that moment, a massive explosion engulfed the terrain in front of them, the resulting kickback of the blast generating enough force to put the two men on their backs. Slowly regaining their composure, they rose up to investigate the blast area. All enemy fire had ceased, and they soon discovered why: the area once occupied by the riot officers was now scattered with flames, discarded weapons, pieces of body armor, and bodies. Behind them came the sound of a car door closing. As they turned to investigate the source, a dark silhouette drew closer to the war memorial. As soon as the figure stepped under the skylights, it's mysterious identity became revealed.

"Excellent work, fellow patriots." A calm, soothing voice accompanied the man.

"'Bout time you showed up!" Jimmie exclaimed, "We thought you boned out on us!"

"To be truthful, I had considered such a prospect." Cage spoke eloquently, "But the thought of abandoning sympathizers grew sour on me."

"So what the hell happened here?" Leon sharply inquired, "You told me Watershed would be clear!"

"It was." Cage calmly responded, "But it turned out that assessment was premature. At high-noon, we had nearly a hundred of our people here, all ready to be extracted on a set of charter buses that I had managed to procure. Unfortunately, as sunset drew near, the police weren't taking too kindly to such a large group gathered in one place. So in effect, they ordered us all to leave and return to our homes. Given our penchant for disobedience, nobody managed to heed the order. Instead of placing us under arrest, they chose to send in riot police and simply eliminate us all. Seeing as how most of us were unarmed civilians, our numbers were whittled down rather quickly. In the span of a few hours – as you can see – our near-hundred became a small fire team."

"So the cops slaughtered all those poor sympathizers?" Leon replied in disgust, "That's beyond barbaric!"

"I couldn't agree more." Cage acknowledged before continuing, "Anyway, I learned of your arrival while hacking into police radio commlink. Though I initially assumed that you were already informed of the situation here, I didn't want to take any chances. I knew how critical it was for us to meet up, but the trouble came in finding a viable rally point. Since the original extraction point was located close to the Middle-East memorial, I chose that to be the place of our eventual rendezvous. Judging by what I was hearing through police chatter, I knew I needed some kind of contingency in case it was necessary for us to retreat before your arrival, thus the C4 explosives. That being said, I must say you guys handled yourselves quite flawlessly."

"No problem." Jimmie replied, "If there's a will, there's a way. Now how the hell we supposed to blow this joint? If cops got the place buckled down, I betcha fifty bucks they got the perimeter sealed tighter than a dolphin's asshole!"

"Not to worry." Cage assured him, "I have in my possession the proper paperwork that will justify us being here. With it, valid identification and a rather ingenious cover story." He pulled out of his front pocket a folded up piece of paper and a Washington Driver's License. The card contained Cage's photo, as well as a full address and birth date.

"Guess you were right," Jimmie said as he looked at the identification card, "'Brandon Ellerby'."

"However, before we leave", Cage looked at Jimmie, "I distinctly remember you mentioning that there were four of you. Where are the others?"

"Oh, that's my wife and kid." Leon replied, "Hold on a second. Myra, Gabe", Leon turned back his head and called to his family, "You guys can come out now, it's safe!" The woman and child revealed themselves from their cover spot and walked slowly toward their other companions.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both." Cage extended his hand upon their arrival, "I'm glad to see you're in good condition."

"Nice to meet you, kind sir." Gabriel responded politely.

"Hey." Myra offered a stark contrast to her son's display of etiquette, directing her gaze away from Cage as she lightly shook his hand. He picked up on this almost instantly

"Victor, this is my wife Myra", Leon introduced the two, "And my only son, Gabe."

"May I be the first to offer my sincerest apologies to the both of you." Cage addressed Leon's family members, specifically Myra, "Had I predicted such a tenuous situation, I would have sent warning ahead of time. It puts me at ease to know of your safety."

"Thank you, sir", replied Myra in a less abrasive demeanor, "But can we get out of here now? After a night like this, all I want right now is a warm bath and a glass of chardonnay."

"Without a problem, ma'am." Cage acknowledged the woman, then addressed the remainder of Leon's group, "I have a great deal to discuss with Leon and James once we arrive in Centralia."

The group of five walked steadily toward the truck in quiet jubilation. Their lives still belonged to them, and the prospect of comfortable shelter only served to heighten their morale.

_Just follow the stars...

* * *

_

_Come here, bitch! You 'bout to make me a happy man tonight._

_No, please. Stop it!_

_I told you ain't nobody gonna help you! Just take it like a good little vixen._

_Oh, God help me. This can't be happening..._

_You feel damn good, girl. You must still be a virgin!_

Carrie awoke from her slumber with a sour feeling in her stomach. Completely unaware of her surroundings, she tried to catch her breath. Everything around was a big blur. Coupled with the fresh images of her most recent nightmare, she was overcame with anxiety. Carrie clutched at her stomach and vomited on her blanket. The knot in her gut subsided as she sat upright once again, closing her eyes and placing her hand on her forehead. Breathing heavily, she struggled to quiet her thoughts. Despite all of her efforts, her mind kept returning to her attacker, and the nightmares that accompanied him. She couldn't shake the events of that night, the images corrupted her mind like a virus. Every aspect of that man was still burned into her thoughts, from his ghastly, decrepit look to the putrid smell of filth that accompanied him. She still felt permeated by his odor. The sheer thought of the acrid smell stirred her stomach once again, inducing another vomiting spell. As her stomach settled, she stretched her body across the ground and stared into the night sky.

"Kevin, if you can hear me," Carrie spoke in a whisper, "Please, help me!"


	5. A Patriot's Creed

_Disclaimer: Deus Ex is owned by Eidos Interactive and Ion Storm. Kudos to both for creating such an excellent, chronically addicting game_.

* * *

**Ruins of San Bernardino, California**

**Two days after SoCal Disaster**

"Jason, wake up." A male voice complemented the slight nudge to his kidneys that roused Jason from his slumber. He struggled to open his eyes, the blinding daylight making the pounding headache even more unbearable.

"What's goin' on?" Jason responded, holding his right arm above his eyes to shield away the sunlight. The black silhouette provided minimal relief from the endless sea of white light.

"It's Kevin." The silhouette spoke, "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jason groaned, "They let you go already?"

"Just a few minutes ago. They had some more patients come in this morning and they needed to free up beds. Everybody who could walk and talk relatively straight got released."

"You feelin' alright, bro?"

"From the looks of it, better than you. What's the matter, you hit the bottle a little hard last night?"

"I'm pleading the Fifth on that one."

"Yeah, as in a fifth of vodka! C'mon man, don't bullshit me. The nurses even smelled it on you."

"You're a buzz-kill, Kev."

"And proud of it, too." Kevin playfully replied before turning serious again, "Anyway, have you seen Carrie? I've been looking all over the place for her."

"I don't know," Jason spoke nonchalantly, "She ran off somewhere after we got kicked out of the joint. I didn't see where she was headed because, frankly, I didn't give two shits."

"So you left her to run around in this madhouse all by herself?" Kevin exclaimed.

"Dude, forget it." Jason countered, "We're better off without the drama queen draggin' us down."

"Oh shit, this isn't good." Kevin rubbed his hand down the length of his face.

"Look man", Jason attempted reassurance, "I know you liked her and all, but look around. This ain't exactly the best time to be chasin' tail."

"Damn it Jason, this isn't about chasing tail!" Kevin sharply exclaimed.

Jason was taken aback by his friend's tantrum. Very rarely did he see Kevin show anger, but this outburst was even more uncommon.

"Is this the car you were talking about?" Kevin asked, holding back some of his fury.

"Yep, that's it." Jason acknowledged, "Ain't gonna get us anywhere, though. Thing's about out of fuel."

"You got the key?" Kevin continued his inquiry.

"Yeah, I got it right here." Jason reached into his pocket and produced a key card no larger than a stick of gum. Kevin quickly grabbed the key from Jason's hand, waving it in front of the reader next to the door handle. Soon after, the disengaging sound of the lock prompted Kevin to yank open the door handle. He immediately turned his focus to a red purse with a white letter "C" on the side; Carrie's purse. Without hesitation he rummaged through the contents, tossing aside any unnecessary items until he came upon a stack of photos Carrie had taken over the years. Adjusting himself into the light, he flipped through the stack until he came along a posed shot of Carrie with one of her closest friends. The label on the back read "_Las chicas calientes. _Me and my guurl Claudia 6 Flags. 7/3/30." Though rather candid and dimly lit, it was the clearest photo of Carrie that he was able to find.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jason asked from outside of the car. Kevin simply ignored his friend, instead walking at a frantic pace back toward the triage area. "Kevin, what the fuck, man?" Jason continued, with heightened urgency.

"I'm going out to look for her." Kevin finally turned to address Jason, back-stepping away from the car.

"You're yankin' me, right?" Jason responded with surprise, "After all her little episodes? Dude, just leave her. We have enough trouble ahead with just the two of us trying to survive this shit, man!"

"For heaven's sake, she could die out there!" Kevin exclaimed.

"Better her than us! Face it Kev, she's gone for good. And if you go out there in that war zone, you'll be killed too!"

"So be it, then. I'd rather take my chances out there than sit on my ass and wait for a miracle. You can either come along, or you can stay here all by your lonesome and nurse that rot-gut vodka hangover. It's your call."

Jason leaned his head back against the car and looked skyward, shaking his head. Though he had virtually been at odds with Carrie since the initial onslaught of the disaster, he couldn't argue with Kevin's logic. Petty squabbles simply were not worth the prospect of bodily harm upon any human being. Without saying another word, Jason brought himself up off of the ground and staggered toward Kevin. The two adolescents walked side-by-side back to the makeshift hospital complex. Each time they came within shouting distance of someone, Kevin used the opportunity to find if they had last seen Carrie at any point in time within the last twelve hours. Nearly all of his efforts proved fruitless, as most of these potential witnesses could not recall seeing anybody resembling the girl in the picture. Others simply ignored Kevin for various reasons, some even resorting to giving the two boys a short tongue-lashing. Despite his absence of luck, he pressed on for nearly a half-hour, managing to cover every point of the complex that was accessible to the public. Eventually, he found a lead.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact." A male – fairly clean and appearing to be in his early thirties – said after studying the photo, "It's the gal on the left, correct? Not the one with streaks in her hair?"

"Yeah, that's her." Kevin replied, "We haven't seen her since last night, around eight-ish."

"Eight-ish, huh?" The man said, still studying the photo. "Pretty sure that's 'round the time we saw her. Hey, Chris!" He turned his head toward a small group of adults huddled around a makeshift heater. Instantly, the head of another male stranger peeked up and looked at the man. "Come here for a sec!" The man motioned at his companion, "I think these kids need help with something."

The companion – slightly more rugged and decorated with arm tattoos – rose to his feet and jogged to where Kevin and Jason were conversing with the stranger. "What do you have for me, Dallas?" Chris asked upon arriving.

"This girl look familiar?" Dallas handed the photo to Chris.

"Yeah, isn't that the same one from last night?" Chris replied, then turned to Kevin and Jason, "Was she wearing a red shirt, gold trim, with a number on the back?"

"Right, umm... thirteen, I think." Kevin stammered.

"Thirteen, right." Chris said before a long pause, the images of last night slowly returning, "Yeah, we saw her all right."

"You did?" Kevin spoke, his voice rising, "Where was she?"

"Spotted her walking past us just after dinner." Chris began to explain, handing the photo back to Kevin, "Closest thing we could call 'dinner', anyway. Hey you got another one of those?" Chris interrupted himself as Jason lit a cigarette.

"Yeah, I think so." Jason reached into his cigarette pack and handed one to Chris, who pulled a vintage butane lighter from his pocket and ignited the cigarette.

"Yeah, she was walking alone and huddled up like she was freezing to death." Chris continued as he exhaled smoke, "Me and Dallas tried to get her attention, offer a place to hole up for the night, but she just flat out ignored us. She looked pretty pissed about something or other. Anyway, as soon as she passed us, Dallas and I followed her for about fifty yards tryin' to get her to stop and talk to us, but she still kept on."

"Must have thought we were creeps or something." Dallas interjected.

"I don't know, myself." Chris replied, "We were just bein' nice, giving her a safe haven for the night and everything. We weren't gonna mess with her. Hell, I have two little girls myself. But you know how teenagers are nowadays, no offense to you guys." He acknowledged Jason and Kevin.

"None taken." Kevin responded.

"God damn, man." Chris contemplated somberly, "We should have kept after her. Only reason I stopped is that I didn't wanna leave my kids alone, but I could have just left Sadie and Deidre with my sister. Shit Dallas, you know I won't be able to sleep if that poor young lady ends up getting hurt."

"Don't beat yourself up, Chris." Dallas placed his right hand on his friend's left shoulder, "You can only do so much for another person. If she wanted nothing to do with us, then so be it."

"You have any idea where she was headed?" Kevin chimed in.

"Might wanna check along Valencia." Dallas replied, "She kept going west after we turned back. Haven't the slightest to where she was goin' from there. Everything west and south of us is swimming right now, if the news is right."

"Thanks guys, I mean it." Kevin said as he shook the hands of the two men, "You've helped a lot."

"Oh, no trouble from us man." Chris accepted Kevin's gratitude, "I hope you find her."

"Yeah and if you do," Dallas interjected, "Best to find a camping spot as quick as possible. From what we've all heard on the radio, it could be weeks before the Army gets to 'Berdoo'. We'd let you guys in with us, but we've barely got enough supplies as it is right now."

"And if you find a good supply stash," Chris added his input, "Guard it with your life! I've already seen a few people get killed on scavenging runs. Hell, I even saw a couple guys draw blood on each other over a can of gasoline. Seriously guys, watch your asses!"

"I'll keep that in mind." Kevin acknowledged as he began to move westward, away from Dallas and Chris, "Good luck to both you guys."

"You too," Dallas shouted as the distance between them grew, "Hope you find her!"

Kevin moved forward at a frantic pace, as a result leaving Jason to play a futile game of catch-up. As he strolled through the park area to the west of the hospital complex, he took in the scene of the moment. Hundreds of people sat huddled in groups around the park, doing their best to hold out until help arrived. Scanning the landscape, his mind roamed to his own situation. At this point, there was a strong possibility of him being an orphan at this point. While he was in the triage, the medical staff made numerous attempts to contact Kevin's father, none of which succeeded. Though the northern part of San Bernardino still seemed to remain intact, Kevin had little knowledge as to the extent of the damage around his home neighborhood.

Kevin slowed his pace to a dead stop as he reached the edge of Valencia. He looked up and down the street, scanning the surrounding rubble piles. Despite the now reduced land mass that San Bernardino now encompassed, the potential search area was still vast and treacherous.

"Carrie Jimenez!" Kevin yelled with all of his strength, "It's Kevin! If you can hear this, head to the corner of Valencia and Highland!" He focused his hearing for a few seconds to listen for a response, but to no avail. All that followed was the ever familiar symphony of disaster.

"Whoa, Kev. Check this shit out!" Jason exclaimed from Kevin's right-hand side. Kevin turned his head to face Jason, who was standing on the side of an enclosed bus stop about fifteen feet from where Kevin was standing. He walked over to the immediate left of Jason and beheld a gruesome sight. Next to the bench, the body of an older man laid sprawled out on the concrete, a large shard of glass protruding out from the area above his right hip. An awful stench hit Kevin like a crowbar and primed his gag reflex.

"Oh God, that's fucking nasty!" Kevin disgustedly spoke with his hand over his mouth, ducking behind Jason.

"Glad to see _someone _had a shittier day than us." Jason playfully commented on the situation, better able to keep his composure than his counterpart.

"Wonder how long he's been here." Kevin said, sniffling and squinting his eyes to combat the acrid smell.

"No tellin'." Jason replied as he leaned inward, giving the bus stop a closer inspection, "Can't be more than a few hours. Somebody would've seen him."

"Sure smells like he's been here longer than that."

"That's just because you're a wussy, Miss Roscoe. Come on man, haven't you smelled a dead guy before?"

"Hell no, and I don't think you have either!"

"Okay, you got me. But I _have _been around my uncle Dusty after Thanksgiving. You wanna talk about the smell of death..."

"Yeah man, I get your point."

Just as Kevin wiped away the tears from his eyes and regained his focus, he spotted a peculiar object underneath the wireframe bench inside the bus stop enclosure. He turned his head away from the stop to suck in a deep breath of fresh air, pinched his thumb and index finger around his nose, covered his mouth with the palm of that same hand, and rushed inside the enclosure to take a closer inspection. Hovering over the body, he made a shocking discovery, for the item was the same pair of underwear Carrie wore when they were alone on the hill. He instantly picked up the panties and rushed back outside the enclosure, gulping down heavy breaths of fresh air as he inspected them.

"What'd you find, Kev?" Jason inquired. Kevin handed the undergarment to Jason while still hunched downward. "Dude, fucking gross!" Jason recoiled, letting the underwear drop to the pavement, "Those could have belonged to some nasty hobo chick and you had your hands all over them!"

"They're Carrie's." Kevin glanced at Jason.

"And how the hell do you know those are her panties?" Jason stood dumbfounded.

"Do you _really _have to ask?" Kevin annoyingly replied, before looking off in the distance, "This don't look right."

"If you think that's big," Jason pointed back to the bus stop, "Take a look at this." He pointed at a trail of bloodied footprints leading away from the enclosure, pointing northward. Kevin walked back to the stop, inspecting the footprints from a distance that kept him away from the rotting stench of the dead body. What had started as a simple case of a missing companion was quickly evolving into a much more complicated mystery. Kevin took in another large gasp of air, held his breath, and followed the trail of footprints.

* * *

**Victor Cage's private mansion**

**Outskirts of Aberdeen, Washington**

The maritime breeze provided Victor a much-need comfort after the shock of the last few days. He stood motionless, facing the ocean and contemplating just what he was about to do. The massacre in Watershed Park weighed heavily upon him. He had planned everything down to the last detail, allowed for every possible outcome. Yet despite it all, he still bore witness to dozens of his most trusted followers being wiped out in one fell swoop. The only thing that quieted the anguish in his heart was the harmony of the endless sea that stretched from the view of his boathouse.

He had bought the property years ago, a total of five acres, for pennies on the dollar after retiring from his last job as a professor of history at the University of Washington. Before that, it was used as a summer retreat by a Hollywood film star, the name of which frequently escaped him. The seaside property contained a vintage-style two-story mansion – much too large for an outwardly frugal person such as Victor – and a boathouse just barely big enough to harbor a small bass boat; a boat which he rarely used. Both provided perfect cover for his new line of work.

The sound of the door opening was enough to shake Victor from his deep trance. His guests had arrived.

"Ah, yes. Sit down everyone." Victor addressed his small audience, made up of Leon, Jimmie, and his three companions from Watershed. They all pulled out a small arrangement of lawn chairs and formed a semicircle around Victor close to the edge of the dock.

"This everyone?" Leon inquired.

"Everyone that opted to escape via the Park." Victor replied, "I've been in contact with other sympathizers, but they won't be arriving until later on. Now, if you all don't mind, I would like us all to take the opportunity to introduce ourselves."

A stocky man with frosted black hair was the first to raise his hand, "Adam Rackett, retired SPD."

"Emily Rosales." An attractive, caramel-skinned brunette in her early thirties went next, "Navy SEALs."

"My name is, umm... Gary Jones." A much-younger man – lanky, pale, and looking quite out of place from the rest of the assembled party – nervously replied, "Corporate security."

"Guess I'll go next." Jimmie paused to stifle a mild coughing fit, "James Burke. Did seven years in the Corps until the shrinks let me go."

"And I'm Leon Woods." Leon finally replied, "Thirteen-year veteran of the U.S. Army. Served in Afghanistan, North Korea, and Pakistan before a W.I.A. ended everything."

"Welcome to my humble abode, everyone." Victor spoke, "Before we begin, I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for the tragedy at Watershed Park. I take full responsibility for such an oversight. Had I known the police were willing to take such measures, I would have provided proper armaments."

"Vic, we've been through this." Adam interrupted Victor, "There's nothing else you could have done. If we'd have gotten into a firefight with the cops, the press would tear that all to shreds. Just look at these guys." He leaned forward and pointed to Leon and Jimmie, "Their faces are plastered on every TV station in the country right now."

"Yeah and what would you have done?" Jimmie quickly scolded Adam, "Used foul language and mooned them? We didn't have too many options, you know!"

"Anything's better than coming out with guns blazing!" Adam stood and exclaimed, "Our number one priority is gaining popular support, and violent retaliation to law enforcement is a bad way to accomplish that goal!"

"They brought out an attack helicopter!" Jimmie rose as well, "We did what we had to do, and if you were half the soldier that I am, you'd understand!"

"Yeah, a soldier with a screw loose." Adam quipped.

"You take that back, pig!" Jimmie attempted to rush Adam before being stifled by Leon.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, gentlemen. Take your seats" Victor responded in a much calmer tone, "I understand we've all been through a lot, but infighting is only going to make it worse. Your concerns Adam are duly noted, but you must realize that there were no other alternatives for Leon and Jimmie. They were outnumbered and out-gunned and they still managed to make it out alive. Therefore I see no wrongdoing in their actions.

"Now between Burke, Woods, and the rest of us, it has become quite clear to me that we are already perceived as a threat by those in power. So much that they are willing go to great lengths to eradicate us -as you all have seen already - without any fear of repercussion."

"So what's the next move?" Leon interjected.

"I was just getting to that, Leon." Victor quieted Leon, "In light of recent events, I have begun to reformulate some of our long-term plans. Before the meeting began, I managed to send a coded message to each of your mobile phones containing the location of a top-secret rendezvous point just inside town. I've organized a much more formal meeting for the bulk of our Seattle Metro sympathizers to take place there later this evening. I will reveal my plans at that time. Good day to you all."

As everyone was filing out into the boathouse and into the crisp autumn, Jimmie was stopped by Emily.

"So you're the guys, huh?" Emily smiled as she spoke them.

"What?" Jimmie replied.

"The guys that fought their way out of the Park, you and the black guy." Emily continued her admiration, "I have to say, that was quite impressive. A lot of people would have just surrendered after facing that kind of resistance."

"Come back with your shield or come back on it, is what I say." Jimmie responded, "Plus Leon had his gang with us. I wanted to get them out more than anything. Don't know about you, but a kid's blood on my hands is not easy to deal with."

"I hear ya." Emily replied, "Guess I was wrong about grunts. See you around, soldier."

Jimmie stood outside the boathouse and lit up a cigarette as Emily walked back to them mansion. She was nothing short of stunning, thanks to the strict physical training required by the SEALs. _Damn_, he whispered to himself as he watched the morning breeze flow through her hair, _My kind of woman. _Jimmie thought to himself. _Let's see how I fuck this one up._

Jimmie's marriage had ended in a bitter divorce after he received his discharge from the Marines, his emotional combat scars driving a stake between himself and Kristine – his estranged wife. Once the annulment became final, Christine took custody of their two children and moved to British Columbia. Though in the subsequent years he enjoyed a life of frugality and solitude, romantic encounters were a rare occurrence. When they did happen, they ultimately left Jimmie unsatisfied and filled with regret. Emily potentially provided a nice change of pace to his string of bad luck.

Oblivious to what was occurring outside of the mansion, Leon hustled his way up the staircase up to his temporary corners. As he opened the door, he could see Myra curled up in a recliner, staring off into space and cradling a sleeping Gabriel on her lap. On the television, a news program streamed aerial of the ruins in California.

"_...as of right now, the Army and Red Cross are working in a joint effort to bring aid in a timely fashion. So far, this has proven to be no easy task. Supply helicopters are continually reporting difficulties in finding suitable landing zones to offload cargo. Right now, cities such as San Bernardino, Pasadena, Victorville, and Palm Springs are relying on aerial cargo drops in order to survive. With such meager quantities of basic essentials being distributed, citizens are beginning to..."_

"Oh man," Leon gasped as he watched the screen, "And I thought we had it bad."

"You're right about that." Myra replied, holding her thousand-yard stare.

"How's he doing?" Leon inquired, nodding his head in Gabriel's direction.

"Been having nightmares since we got here." Myra responded and turned to Leon, "One was so bad he wet the bed. He ain't had that problem since he was four, Leon!"

"Damn it, I was afraid of that." Leon shook his head and looked away, "Look, I know last night was a bad deal, and I'm sorry. If I'd have known things were gonna go down like that, I would have gone about it way different."

"That ain't even the worst of it." Myra grabbed the remote and increased the volume on the television a few decibels. On the screen showed two pictures that were all to familiar to Leon, for they were police sketches of his own likeness, as well as Jimmie's.

"_...FBI has sent sketches to law enforcement agencies across the United States and Canada in an attempt to apprehend these two individuals. Olympia Police say Leonidas Woods and James Edward Burke, Jr., engaged them in a heavy firefight last night in Watershed Park before fleeing the scene. Early reports indicate they took the lives of at least fifteen police officers and caused an estimated four million dollars in property damage. Woods has a dark complexion, stands between six-foot-two and six-foot five and weighs approximately 225 pounds while Burke is pale, about five-ten and weighs around 180. Both men are believed to be in their early-to-mid-thirties. FBI is also curious as to the whereabouts of two individuals..."_

Myra decreased the volume to it's original volume and faced Leon once again. "You see that Leon?" Myra pointed at the TV, "We're fugitives! Now are you gonna tell me what this is all about, why we're here, and what all these other people have to do with all of this?"

Leon took a deep breath and began to speak, "I knew this day would eventually come about." He briefly paused, then continued once more, "A few years ago – back when I was still at the steel factory – I'd just got done working late and decided to stop into the Blue Anchor for a drink. I sat down next to an older man who looked a little overdressed for the place. As I started talking to him, I found out he used to be a professor at U-Dub - U.S. History, I think it was.

"Anyway, the more we conversed, the more I realized that we both shared the same sentiments about the plight of this country. Over the course of the next several months, he revealed a plan to organize the people into a revolt against the government, a plan that mirrored the birth of the American Revolution. As this plan began to manifest, I felt obliged to lend my services in anyway possible. I became one of the first sympathizers. His vision was largely localized, but he felt that if we succeeded, it would inspire others with similar ideals to follow in our footsteps."

"I see." Myra replied sarcastically, "And what is this 'plan' that you speak of?"

"Victor's idea was simple," Leon replied, "To free ourselves from the control of a government that has become increasingly corrupt and out of touch with the American people. From there we would form a new government, more strongly rooted in the ideals outlined in the Declaration. A government that is, for once, by the people and for the people."

Myra sat dumbfounded. Her husband's words were simply too much for her to fathom. Though his revelation made sense of a lot of his recent questionable behavior, she would never have expected this. "So you're telling me," She finally mustered a response, "That all the late nights, your newfound sense of privacy, all the strange calls on your mobile, all that was because you were organizing a rebellion?"

"Yes, all of it."

"Damn it, I thought you was having an affair, Leon! Right now, I'd be more comfortable hearing that than about you being involved in the next American Revolution! What about us, Leon? What about your son? Don't you realize what'll happen to all of us if this goes wrong? Look deep down, Leon. Look into your heart of hearts and tell me if you're truly willing to get us caught up in all of this."

"I'm not doing this just for myself, I'm doing this for you guys more than anything! Look around, Myra. You've seen it just as much as I have. Once upstanding citizens, walking the streets as bums because their corporate fat-cat bosses laid them off to cut costs. Innocent civilians arrested and lynched in the streets, incarcerated indefinitely in violation of the Miranda Ruling and _habeas corpus_. All the while, those in power are turning blind eyes and deaf ears to this, if nothing more than to appease those that line their pockets with wads of cash. If things are already this bad here in 2030, how much worse will they be in 2040, or even 2050? How much worse are things gonna get before someone finally takes a stand and does something? I don't want to see that future, and I _damn_ sure don't want our son to grow up in that world. _That's _why I'm doing this, Myra!"

"But at what cost? Don't you see the consequences here, Leon? You've put all three of us in danger. For the love of God, we're all international fugitives!"

"You think I haven't considered that already?"

"That's not the point. And what if you guys _do _succeed, Leon? Who's to stop Victor from becoming supreme dictator of this new 'government'?"

"Victor doesn't have the mentality or the desire to become an autocrat."

"How can you be sure? I'm no history major, but I've seen this happen time and again. Christ Leon, how do you thing the Nazis were born? One charismatic speaker rises above the ashes of a troubled nation and gains power, captivates the masses with little more than charisma, and creates a devout following. As soon as he's got absolute power, a more sinister agenda emerges. Sound familiar?"

"Adolf Hitler and Victor Cage are two entirely different people. I know because I was once as skeptical as you are. Victor is a patriot, first and foremost. I believe that with every bone in my body!"

Myra sighed for a few long seconds, then finally mustered a response, "I don't know if I can go along with this, Leon. We'll talk more later."

* * *

"So let me get this straight." Kevin recapped Jason's explanation as they trudged through the endless piles of debris, "After you guys got kicked out last night, you two got into a nasty argument, almost came to blows, and then she wandered off?"

"Yep." Jason replied in monotone.

"Jesus Jason," Kevin scolded his friend, "How could you be so short-sighted?"

"Look I was drunk, okay!" Jason defended himself, "Plus it's happened for the better. With her not around, the goings have been a lot easier."

"At the expense of what? A pretty, unarmed, seventeen-year-old wandering alone in what is probably the most dangerous place on earth right now? Have you gone freaking nuts?"

"All she's done is drag us down, man! Is this what I get in return of a favor?"

"You've put someone's life in danger, Jason! You mean to tell me that hasn't created any feeling of remorse within you?"

"Why is this my fault all of a sudden? She's the one that ran off into the night!"

"Because you pissed her off!"

"Yeah, but she started all of it."

"C'mon man, we ain't in third grade anymore."

"Whose side are you on Kevin? I know you like her and all, but this is starting to piss me off. Why do you keep defending her like this? In you're mind, she's completely incapable of wrongdoing. Meanwhile, I'm just the Big Bad Wolf in this fuckin' fairy tale you've created. I've said it once and I'll say it again: right now, we have bigger priorities than chasin' tail."

"And I'll say this again: this isn't about chasin' tail!"

"Then what is it? What is so important that you're willing to sell out your best friend? Your _only_ friend, at that. What is your grand motive in all of this?"

"You're really gonna make me say this, aren't you?"

"Say what, Kevin? What do you have to say to me, kid? Speak up and tell me why I'm being treated like the whipping boy!"

"Look Jason, you're my homey, always have been. But here we are at ground zero of what will probably be known as the biggest natural disaster in recorded human history, and all you and Carrie have done is gripe and bicker and argue to the point of starting the next World War!"

"Your point?"

"My point is, the only way we're ever gonna live to see a better day is if we all stick together. A big part of that is learning to get along with everyone else, even if you don't necessarily like that particular person."

"So that's it? Some hippie speech about togetherness and all that mumbo-jumbo? Whatever, man."

"It's not hippie stuff Jason, it's common-freaking-sense! And to tell you the truth: yes, you do get a little out of hand sometimes and yes, it has gotten on my nerves in the past. I'm not asking you to undergo a split-second personality makeover. I'm just telling you that there's a time and place for it all. Unfortunately, right now is neither the time nor the place. Now come on, we're almost there."

"Where the hell are we going?"

"Cajon High. I have a feeling she's posted up somewhere around there."

"What makes you think that?"

"The footprints lead north. The only place along that path she could likely be is the school."

"And what are you gonna do if we don't find her there?"

"I don't know, Jason. Now keep moving."

The teenagers had walked for hours through the ruins, slowly edging their way closer to the north side of San Bernardino. Something inside of him felt that was the place he would find the girl. He hadn't the slightest idea where this feeling came from, nor did he make any attempt to ascertain it's origin or purpose. He just went with it. After all, it was the closest he had to anything that could be considered a lead.

As he navigated the debris-littered street – 'E' Street, to be specific – he drew closer to his neighborhood. The scene cut through him like a razor sharp dagger. Everything as far as the eye could see was destroyed. In an attempt to quiet the sorrow and fear in his heart, he simply tried to remember – as best as he could – how everything was before the earthquake. He passed the remains of an old liquor store, where his dad bought him candy bars and sodas as a child sometimes after numerous Saturday afternoon father-son outings. Not far was the delectable hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant where he frequently dined out. He also walked by an abandoned parking lot, the site of countless hours of street hockey matches with the neighborhood kids. Though this mental health exercise provided some relief, it also made him realize just how much his life had not only already changed dramatically, but just how much further those changes would take him. In light of this, he still muscled on.

Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks and locked his gaze on a familiar place.

"Kev, what's going on? Why did you stop?" Jason inquired

Kevin stood in silence, a blank stare in his eyes facing in the direction of this place. It was the apartment complex that he once called home. Just like the rest of San Bernardino, nothing more than a pile of twisted metal, wood, and concrete.

"You gonna answer me or what?" He continued.

"Excuse me for a minute." Kevin replied, "There's something I have to see."

Kevin started walking again toward a destination known only to himself. Jason tried his best to follow, but had difficulty keeping up. Quickly, Kevin made his way to the estimated ground location of his old apartment and sifted away at the chunks of rubble. After a long and painstaking process, he found exactly what he was looking for. There, cold and still before his very eyes, laid the body of his dead father. Overcome with heavy emotion, he knelt closer to the body of Stephen Roscoe and fought the deluge of tears that were ready to burst from him. As he mustered the courage to let the sadness run it's course, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry man." Jason tried to console his friend.

"Jason, do me a favor." Kevin lifted his head and faced Jason, wiping the tears from his eyes, "See if you can find a shovel somewhere. I'm gonna look around a little more."

"Sure thing." Jason replied before breaking away on his own. Meanwhile Kevin dug away at the debris, looking for something – anything – he could use as a burial memento. He found plenty of items that belonged the occupants of the lower apartment, and even the bodies of some of the occupants. Normally such a sight would have bothered Kevin, but his situation could hardly be described as normal. Finally – after nearly a half-hour – he found a perfect item.

It was a Los Angeles Kings flag, autographed by the members of their first Stanley Cup champion nearly two decades ago. Kevin's father was a die-hard and unapologetic fan of the Kings. He frequently recounted his personal experiences during the championship run. Even his full name – Kevin Alexander Roscoe – was a tribute to their star player of the era.

The flag itself – encased in a large picture frame – once adorned the wall above their living room couch. Stephen had bought it through a sports auction website in what he described as "The Bargain of the Century." It was one of his most prized possessions. Now it lay in a crumpled mess among the ruins. It would do just fine.

"I found one." Jason returned to the ruined apartment to see Kevin rummaging.

"Great", Kevin rose to his feet, "Now give me a hand with him, will ya."

"Where we taking him?" Jason inquired.

"See that patch of grass by the pool?" Kevin pointed toward a gated enclosure.

"There? That's a long way's, dude."

"It's the closest place we can use. Now lift on the count of three."

They both grunted in unison and lifted Stephen out of the rubble. His passion of combining televised sports and beer added a sizable amount of fat to his already stocky build. The teenagers used every ounce of strength in their bodies to carry the body out of the rubble and into the parking lot, making a straight line to the burial site. As Jason complained endlessly about the workload, Kevin remained eerily silent. He barely even took a loud breath as they hauled the body. To Jason, it was almost robotic.

They lowered the body on to a spot in the middle of the grass patch. As soon as he let go of the shoulders, Kevin raced back to their origin and grabbed the shovel. Jogging back just as quickly, he frantically started digging into the grass, carving a hole just larger than the estimated width and height of Stephen's body. He then chipped away at the mud, going as deep as his body would allow before stopping just short of around four feet. He left the body once again, searching the ruins until he came back with two pieces of scrap wood fashioned into a cross. Kneeling next to the body, he produced a permanent marker from his pocket and wrote, "R.I.P., STEPHEN THOMAS ROSCOE, 1985-2030."

Placing the marker back inside of his pocket, he motioned to Jason to help him lower the body into the makeshift grave, laying the flag as best as he could inside the hole. Once this task was accomplished, Kevin shoveled the dirt back into the hole at an equally frantic pace, stopping only after the hole was completely filled. He dropped the shovel, packed the dirt down into the whole, and placed the cross at the head of the grave. He the paced to the foot of the grave, removed his hat – a Kings hat, also removed from the ruins - to place it over his heart, and broke his long silence.

"Dad," Kevin began, "I don't know if I ever told you this, so I'm gonna say it now because I know you can hear me up there. Even though I sometimes thought you were too strict at times and didn't want me to have a normal life, I knew that deep down you only wanted me to have the best." He stifled another wave of tears and continued, "You were always there for me. You taught me to be strong and never give up, no matter how tough things were. I know you're there in the afterlife wondering why I'm here crying like a six-year-old, so I just want you to know that for as long as I live, I'll never forget that lesson." He took a heavy breath before finishing, "Goodbye and God be with you." Those last words hit him harder than anything else. At that very moment, they confirmed and brought closure to his worst fears. Outside of Jason and Carrie - if she were ever found – he was now alone.

"Let's get going." He said to Jason as he wiped away the last bit of tears.

* * *

Leon returned to his room after a light afternoon meal to see Myra asleep on the recliner. In front of her, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her was Gabriel, with every aspect of his focus directed toward a hand-held video game device. Apparently, in the chaos of their escape from the apartment, Gabriel managed to slip it out of the house.

"What'cha playing there, kiddo?" Leon knelt close to Gabriel.

"Basketball." Gabe replied, "Gary let me borrow it. It's really cool! I just beat the Lakers by forty points."

"That much, huh?" Leon congratulated, "Can you pause that for a minute, sport? I need to talk to you."

"Am I in trouble, dad?" Gabriel asked, showing signs of remorse.

"No, not at all." Leon reassured him, "I just want to have a little father-son chat." Gabriel pressed a small button on the control interface, placed the video game on the floor, and shifted his body to face his father. "Momma told me you wet your bed last night."

"Oh, man." Gabriel lowered his head.

"Things got pretty scary for you in the park, didn't they?"

"You're not mad at me are you?"

"Not at all, champ. I can't be mad about a few nightmares. Everybody gets bad dreams sometimes, even grown-ups."

"Really?"

"Yeah, even I get 'em once in a while."

"You do?"

"Of course I do, son. But you know what I do? Soon as I wake up, I let my head clear up, look down at your momma, and then I tell myself that the worst is over and that everything's gonna be alright."

"What about my accident?"

"Hey kiddo, you're going through some tough times. Most kids your age couldn't dream up this stuff, let alone live through it. Right now you're body's trying to figure out a way to handle it all. But you're gonna get through it. You know why?"

"Why's that?"

"Because you're a brave and smart little boy. Any other kid would have just turned tail and run off, but not you. You stuck with us and toughed it out, no matter how deep we were in. Now come here." Leon gave his son a firm hug and spoke in Gabriel's ear, "I know you're in a new place with a lot of strange people around, but I promise you I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you and momma. Understand?"

"Yeah, dad." Gabriel replied.

Outside the mansion, another plot emerged as Jimmie and Emily enjoyed a leisurely stroll along the coast.

"So you were really a SEAL?" Jimmie inquired.

"That's gotta be the third time you've asked me that, James." Emily responded, "Is it really that big of a surprise to you?"

"A little bit, yes." Jimmie confessed, "I just didn't know they let women in, no offense to you or anything."

"None taken." She replied, "Technically we've always been allowed to sign up, but nobody could ever qualify. Eventually some feminist group made a big stink and threatened the Navy with a big lawsuit, so they changed their standards. I was actually one of the first females to make it through the new program."

"Damn, I bet you never heard the end of it."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough at the onset. A lot of the guys there weren't too open-minded about working with female recruits, and had no shame in letting their opinions be known. One gal even had a nervous breakdown from being hounded constantly by the others. I just tried to prove everybody wrong, you know. I went out there and let 'em all know that I was just as much a badass as they were and before you know it, I was a bona-fide U.S. Navy SEAL."

"So what made you sign up?"

"Determination, combined with a dash of insanity. I joined the Navy because I wanted to be challenged, and I just wasn't finding it with my old MOS. That's when a friend of mine told me about the SEALs. The rest, as they all say, is history."

"I bet you've got some stories that put mine to shame."

"Probably. If I'm feeling up to it one day, I might even share a few. Most of it's just garden-variety black-ops stuff. I only did about six years, so I never got a chance to take some of the tougher assignments."

"What happened?"

"Messed up my leg in a training exercise. Wasn't all my fault, the copter pilot was a certified idiot. We were doing a rappelling drill, and the jackass cuts a hard left before I could even secure my harness. Before I knew it, the copter was fifty feet above, and I was laying on the ground with a compound fracture in my right tibia."

"What was his excuse?"

"He told the review board that he caught a crosswind and over-corrected. Personally, I call bullshit on_ that _one. I think he just didn't know what the hell he was doing. Regardless, I was done with the SEALs. The rehab was just gonna take too long and even then, I could never be one-hundred percent. The Navy tried to keep me around, but I just went ahead and took a medical discharge, did my rehab, applied for a Purple Heart Grant, and started studying at U-Dub. That's where I first ran into Victor."

"You were one of his students?"

"Yeah, shortly before he left the University. Even then, he had some pretty radical ideals. Fast forward a few years ahead, I'm up late browsing the 'Net, and I saw his handle on a Crypto board outlining his plan for the next Revolution."

"And what convinced you to join?"

"For one, I knew he was right about every single thing he was saying. I saw some pretty fucked up stuff while I was in the SEALs. Stuff that made me question if I was really fighting for a noble cause."

Jimmie took a long pause as Emily walked past him, then finally spoke, "You really think he knows what he's doing?"

"I doubt anyone can give a definitive answer at this point." She responded, "He's been pretty tight-lipped about our next move. For all we know, we could be heading straight for Hell. But I'll tell you one thing: if I'm gonna go down, it sure as shit ain't gonna be without a fight!"

"Jimmie!" a distant voice called to him from the mansion. He saw Leon jogging down the shallow slope that led out from the mansion. Leon stopped upon meeting up with the other two and then spoke through heavy breathing, "Just talked to Cage. He wants us in his study, says it's important."

"Okay, I'll be right there." Jimmie shouted as Leon ran back to the mansion. "I gotta go", he said to Emily.

"Duty calls." She smiled, "It was nice talking to you, James."

"Please, call me Jimmie." He requested.

"Okay, Jimmie." Emily giggled, then leaned forward to kiss Jimmie on the cheek, "Take care." He caught up with Leon just as he entered through the French-style patio doors that led inside. "Vic say anything else?" Jimmie inquired of Leon as they paced up the stairs.

"Just to come find you." Leon responded.

* * *

The man lifted young Carrie off the ground with ease, kissing her on the forehead once she was at eye level with him.

"I missed you, _papa_." she said in a sweet voice.

"I missed you too, _mi__ja__._" He replied, lowering her to ground level.

"Are you staying this time_, papa_?" She looked up at him.

"I don't know, Carolina." He responded, "But I do know this." Suddenly his form changed. Carrie was no longer looking at her father, but the image that now haunted her at every turn, "_You gonna be mine, little lady._"

Shifting back to consciousness, she spring upright on the concrete, struggling for every last breath. The dehydration and hunger had taken a heavy toll on her in such a short time. She frantically searched for food or water – anything that could provide sustenance – but nothing presented itself. The world around her was fading away into nothing more than blurry lines and colors. Her mental and physical state eroded rapidly, and every second that ticked brought her closer and closer to an agonizing death.

Closing her eyes, she clutched at the crucifix around her neck and began to pray.

* * *

"Hello?" Jimmie spoke into the receiver.

"Yeah, Jimmie?" Came the agitated response from the woman on the other end, "It's Kristine."

"Oh, hey Kris." Jimmie replied with confusion, "How are the kids doing?"

"Can the small talk, Jimmie." Kristine sounded annoyed, "I got a bone to pick with you!"

"What's the matter, everything alright?"

"Hell no, it isn't! I just got done talking to some guys from the American embassy. There something you want to tell me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Kris."

"Don't fucking play dumb with me, Jimmie! From what they told me you're in some deep shit! Now what the hell's gotten into you? What gave you the bright idea to get trigger happy with the cops?"

"I was just helping some friends get out of town! God damn cops started shooting at us and we weren't even doing anything!"

"Oh whatever, Jimmie. If you were the victim in all of this, then why the hell has your face been on CBC all day?"

"Damn it Kris, what have I told you about the news?"

"Spare me the freedom-fighter propaganda. I don't know what you're up to, nor do I care, but I swear if you get me and the kids get caught up in your stupidity, I won't stop until your balls are nailed to the god damn ceiling!"

Jimmie pulled the phone away and ended the call. Reaching into his pants pocket, he produced a cigarette and ignited it.

"What was that all about?" Leon inquired.

"Ex wife." Jimmie replied, "Apparently the embassy's asking about me."

"Is that a secure phone?" Leon asked.

"Yeah, coded up the wazoo." Jimmie exhaled a plume of smoke out of his nose.

"Good." Leon displayed his satisfaction, "The last thing we need is some wiretap giving us away." He turned his attention to the scenery outside the four-door sedan. Adam kept the car at a steady pace along the rural road that led into Aberdeen. Gary sat in the front passenger seat, thumbing through a pop-culture magazine that left him oblivious to the outside world. Jimmie laid his head back on the seat and continued to puff away at his cigarette while Leon looked out the right rear window, watching the scenery go by.

It was only a short time until they arrived at the rendezvous point, and old storefront in downtown Aberdeen. Victor bought the property a few years ago after moving to Aberdeen in hopes of starting an antique business, or so he told the Zoning Department. It was really just a cover for his more clandestine operations. To the general populace of Aberdeen, Victor Cage was a friendly, mild-mannered shop owner who was simply enjoying the latter stages of his life. Only a few privileged souls knew what went on after _Priceless Treasures_ closed up for the night.

"We're here." Adam turned his head to the rear of the car, addressing Leon and Jimmie. He pulled into an abandoned garage adjacent to the shop and exited, the other passengers not far behind. The pack made their way to the back door of the shop, navigating the storeroom until reaching a heavy steel door. He knocked on the door and waited. It wasn't long before there was a response.

"Are you here about the chandeliers?" The voice yelled out from the other side.

"Yes sir, I am." Adam replied, "I wanted to know if they were made of Fool's Gold." The door swung open after Adam spoke the last sentence.

"Good, you made it." Victor greeted the new arrivals, "Come downstairs." They followed Victor down a staircase completely enclosed in concrete, leading them into the basement of the store. Nothing here resembled the contents above them, for before their eyes was an assortment of rifles, handguns, explosives, ammunition, gadgets, and bookcases filled to the brim with a vast array of printed material. Some of it purchased, others a product of Victor's numerous studies. To Leon, it showed a closer resemblance to a scene from a twentieth-century blockbuster film than a storage room for an antique shop.

"We're still waiting on a few more people en route from Seattle." Said Victor, "We'll get underway as soon as they arrive. In the mean time, feel free to relax." Jimmie and Leon immediately obliged, grabbing a pair of wooden chairs and placing them adjacent to each other. Leon took the moment to survey the others in the room. He counted a total of seventeen people, many of them unfamiliar to Leon. And just like the small entourage at Victor's mansion, they all represented different age groups, ethnic backgrounds, and walks of life.

"Can I ask you something, Jimmie?" Leon inquired of his partner.

"Shoot." Jimmie replied.

"What's going on with you and that Navy SEAL gal?" Said Leon, "I saw her give you a little peck earlier today."

"Oh, Emily?" Jimmie responded, "I don't know, man. We had a good little chat out there. Say what you want, but that was one of the few times I actually enjoyed being divorced."

"Not trying to bring you down, Jimmie," Leon lectured, "But I don't know if this is a good time for that kind of stuff. A few hours from now, we could be at war."

"I know, I know." Jimmie replied with disappointment, "But she's smart, beautiful, can hold her own in a melee. Probably got some moves _I've_ never seen before. I don't get too many opportunities like this, you feelin' me?"

"I'm not trying to talk you out of it," Leon assured, "But all I'm saying is be careful, Jimmie. Don't let it mess up your head while we're out there."

"I got ya." Said Jimmie.

Soon after, another knock came from upstairs. Victor immediately made way to the top level. After giving a similar code phrase to the arrivals, he returned with a much larger group – nearly a dozen people – who, without hesitation, took their seats.

"Rosales, is this everyone?" Victor inquired.

"Everyone that got out safely." Said Emily, "The law took out a few on the way to the pick-up location. Seems to be a pattern lately."

"Let's begin." Victor took his place in front of the audience – now close to thirty people – and spoke, "Ladies and gentlemen, you are all here today because you share a common bond with one another. Black or white, old or young, male or female, military or civilian, we believe that all are created equal. We believe that there are certain rights guaranteed to us not just as Americans, but as human beings. We also believe that the present incarnation of our government is responsible for the revocation of those rights. And finally, we believe that it is foolhardy to simply ignore these travesties, and that it is our burden to rise up and let our sentiments be known. You have all bore witness to these atrocities as some point in your lives, and the weight on your conscience has compelled you to take action.

"In light of recent events, I have been forced to make several changes in our long-term agenda. It is now clear that opposition to our cause is much greater than I had originally anticipated. As we speak, the foot soldiers of this corrupt power base rampage unchecked, with almost no rules of engagement, unlimited support, and little fear of retribution. But I tell you today, my brothers and sisters: we cannot be coerced into obedience by the megalomaniacs who employ them!"

Victor took a deep breath, and then continued, "At the stroke of Eight P.M., Mayor Bowyer will stage a public address from the steps of Seattle's Mayoral Mansion, known as Wallace House. He's supposed to speak on topics relating to the SoCal disaster, and the bulk of the Lower and Upper Houses - along with representatives from several other government offices, as well as a plethora of journalists – will be present at the event. I have determined that it will be there that we shall let our presence be known!"

Victor paused to allow for the assorted reactions of surprise from his audience, "Now it is not beyond my understanding that Wallace House will be heavily guarded, and we will likely face resistance of a large caliber once we have revealed ourselves to the world. Therefore I have enlisted the aid of two of my most trusted associates. Mr. Woods and Mr. Burke, will you please come forward?"

Leon and Jimmie rose from their chairs and walked to Victor, taking their places at each side of their leader. Once again, the crowd was taken aback by this announcement, some even voicing their respective grievances to Victor's decision. "These two men," Victor resumed, "Displayed the utmost in cunning and bravery in their escape from Watershed Park. They have proven themselves to be effective tacticians. If a combat situation arises and I am not immediately present, Woods and Burke have command of all operations.

"In addition, I'd like to introduce you to another colleague of mine. Though many of you have benefited from his work, I doubt any of you have had the pleasure of a face-to-face encounter. My brothers and sisters, meet Joseph Sanders." A nerdy-looking man, possibly the youngest person in the entire audience, identified himself. "He is well-trained," Victor resumed, "In the field of computer operation and manipulation. His ability to promptly acquire information has helped to save many lives, and will only continue to do so as we move forward.

"Now I will take this opportunity to let you all become acquainted with my new lieutenants. Though some of you may have already had your disagreements with them, I ask that you serve them unquestioningly. Their orders may mean the difference between life and death." Victor retired to a desk at the landing of the staircase, giving the floor to Leon and Jimmie.

"First off," Jimmie began, "I'm sure a lot of you see some new faces around here. If we're gonna be out there mixin' it up, best we all get to know each other." One by one, the audience gave their personal introductions, just as was done in the boathouse that morning. Just like the guests at the mansion, the new arrivals were a melting pot of ages, races, and combat experience. Though a few were ex-military, the remainder featured blue-collar workers, white-collars, students, transients, and even a few convicted criminals. Assembling their strike teams proved to be a dicey task for the two commanders.

"Excellent." Leon said as the introductions concluded, "I am Leon Woods, and to my right is James Burke. Between the both of us, we have around 20 years of combat experience. Many of these skills were applied in our escape of Watershed Park, in which we were outnumbered nearly ten-to-one by an enemy force with both superior technology and armament. On top of this, we had to ensure the safety of two unarmed civilians as well as our own. So for those of you who still doubt our abilities, we are fully capable of managing such an operation.

"Our plan is to divide everyone into two separate groups. The first group – commanded by Jimmie – will oversee the perimeter of the mansion. They will serve as both an early warning system as well as a first line of defense. The others – my team – will be deeper inside, keeping a direct line of sight on the mayor and awaiting further orders from either Cage or Sanders."

"Now I'm aware of the fact that many of you have never seen live combat." Jimmie followed, "I'm also aware that, in the heat of battle, the shit could hit the fan and we'll have to think on our feet. So I ask that you all obey our orders _without question_. One guy going rogue could mean the deaths of a lot of people. As Leon said before: we know what the hell we're doing, so neither of us are gonna throw you into the wolves."

"I've already taken the liberty of selecting a couple of people to be my sergeants." Leon spoke, "Rackett, Jones, please stand." Adam and Gary did as ordered, looking around at their potential colleagues. "In the event that I am incapacitated or killed, Rackett will be next-in-line as commander. They will also assist in relaying orders to the rest of you. If you're with my group, you are to obey these men as you would obey myself or Cage!"

"For my team," Jimmie took over, "I've selected Ms. Emily Rosales to be my second-in-command. Once we start picking bodies, I'll be choosing four more people to lead fire teams, each with five men. Now once you've divided up, we'll both be giving a crash-course in firearms training to some of you greenhorns. We don't got a lot of time before we head out, so it'll be just enough to keep you guys from shooting each other's heads off."

"Before we split up," Leon returned to his soapbox, "I would like to say that it is a great honor, to have the opportunity to fight alongside all of you brave sons and daughters of America. You represent an undying spirit in this nation. May God watch over you all, fellow patriots."

* * *

Carrie's body lay sprawled on the concrete, barely alive, and gasping for her last few breaths of air. She had used up the last of her strength in a last-ditch effort to find food or water - a fruitless expedition that netted a total of three grasshoppers, who served no other purpose than adding to her already churning stomach. Now she was done, used up, finished. This was it. This was where she would draw her last breath.

Mustering a few concise words, she placed a hand on her crucifix and recited a prayer in her native language. Carrie was performing her own last rites. As she whispered, she became more comfortable with the reality of her imminent death. The outside world faded away, and consciousness drained from her physical form as the seconds ticked closer. She felt serene, overcome by a flood of contentment, as though she was laying on a beach while the tides rushed past her. Clearly, the Lord had given her the luxury of a peaceful death.

"Carrie!" A male voice startled her from her death ritual.

"_¿__Se__ñor?_" She groaned in a faint whisper.

"Carrie Jimenez!" The voice, now louder, continued on.

"_¡__Estoy aqu__í, __Se__ñor!" _Carrie called out with her last bit of energy, "_¡Lléveme al Reino!" _Her eyes closed and her body went limp, a final act of surrender to the will of her maker. She could feel the beating of her heart wither away, and her lungs drew smaller and smaller breaths. In a short time, Carrie would be gone from this world.

"I found someone!" Another voice echoed, this one being the closest yet, "Here in the ditch, under the bridge!" Not seconds after, the rapid sound of heavy footsteps approached the girl. Next came a sensation on her carotid artery resembling that of a human touch.

"Oh come on, stay with me!" The first voice spoke between heavy breaths, "Just hang on, girl. Everything's gonna be okay."

"Please," She responded, almost inaudible, "Leave... me." It was now clear to her that the "voice" was simply just that of a Good Samaritan trying to rescue her. His voice, however, seemed eerily familiar. Nevertheless, he ignored her request and placed her body upright against the concrete wall

"I need some water down here!" The voice called out, away from Carrie.

"That jug's only half full!" The second voice yelled from further away, "We need it too, you know!"

"Just do it!" The first replied sternly. Another string of footsteps – this time moving away from her – followed the exchange of words. After nearly a minute, she felt something force her jaws open. Through them came the pleasurable taste of the commodity that she had been long deprived of – _water_. With every bit poured into her mouth, she felt revitalized. Pockets of strength slowly returned to her body. Her lungs and heart crept back to semi-normal capacity, triggering a cough that rejected the stream of water entering her gullet. Her eyes crept open, revealing a large, white blur encompassing most of her field of vision. As her sight readjusted, the colors gained more definition, at long last revealing the identity of her savior.

"Kevin?" She spoke in a raspy voice.

"Ah, thank God you're alive!" Kevin exclaimed joyously.

"You... found me." She struggled with her words.

"And not a moment too soon." Kevin replied, "You're in pretty bad shape. Where the hell are your clothes? And why is there blood all over your arms?"

"What?" She whispered, looking down at her nude and blood-soaked form, "Oh... that. There was a... a man. He was... at the bus stop. He... he... he..."

"He... what, Carrie?" Kevin leaned in, "What did this guy do?"

"He ra..." Before she could finish, Carrie regurgitated a stream of water on the concrete.

"Oh shit, this is bad." Kevin panicked, then grabbed the nearly empty jug and held it to her mouth, making another attempt to force-feed her.

"He raped me!" She finally sputtered, gently pushing away the container, "He pinned me down on the bench. I couldn't move. He... stuck his fingers inside me. Everything about it felt wrong. I... stabbed him. There was glass on the ground. I grabbed a piece and... drove it in deep. Deep as I could"

"Did he take your clothes, too?" Kevin asked.

"No, I got rid of them." She said, her words starting to come slightly easier, "He smelled terrible... like rotten meat. I felt his... his stench all over me. I stripped down so... I could feel clean again."

Kevin leaned back for a minute. Now it all made sense, the dead body at the bus stop, Carrie's underwear, and the blood trail. Though the actual story was different than his initial hypothesis, he still felt sympathetic toward the girl. In some of his war stories, Kevin's father often made references to a military rite-of-passage known as "taking the walk". Simply put, it was a way of describing the dramatic transformation that took place after killing someone. Carrie was going through the initial phase: fear, confusion, and remorse in spite of the circumstances.

"Carrie," Kevin leaned in to comfort the girl, "I know this is all hard to deal with. You've been through a lot in a very short time, so I want you to know that we'll be here for you. As long as you're with us, nothing bad is gonna happen to you. Follow me?" She shook her head, maintaining a blank stare. "Now I'm gonna leave, but I'll be back in a short minute. Just sit tight and try to drink some more water. You need it more than any of us." Kevin ascended the slanted retaining wall of the ditch. Above him, Jason rushed to meet him at the edge.

"Okay Jason, I need a favor." Kevin spoke frantically.

"What the hell's going on?" Jason replied with disapproval, "Why'd you give her all the water? And what the hell did she do with my Julian Drake jersey?"

"Listen to me, okay!" Kevin interjected, "Do we have that other water jug?"

"Yeah we do but...," Jason was stopped mid-sentence.

"Okay, go to that spigot we found and refill that bottle." Kevin continued, "If you find any clothes or blankets, take 'em! It's getting cold and dark out here, and she could freeze to death if left like that all night."

"I'm not complaining." Jason quipped.

"Damn it, Jason!" Kevin scolded him, "Remember what we talked about?"

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Jason begrudgingly obliged and then wandered off on his new task. Meanwhile, Kevin stood at the edge of the ditch, mired in deep thought. The group was whole once more, for that he was relieved. This new string of events, however, left him wondering what other challenges lay in store. He wondered if he truly had the fortitude to brave the storm and conquer this new world. Outwardly, he tried to pass himself off as the _de facto _leader of this entourage. Inside, he questioned his ability to take charge were a truly sticky situation present itself.

Taking a deep breath, he descended into the ditch.

* * *

**Wallace House**

**Seattle, Washington**

Leon stretched his body along the grass behind a small azalea bush that gave him direct line-of-sight to Mayor Bowyer, who spoke to his audience behind a podium situated at the foot of the mansion's stairs. He paid little attention to Bowyer's speech, instead keeping constant watch on anybody that could potentially sneak up on them. Thankfully, Sanders could access the security network of Wallace House, as well as any communications between security personnel. There was little chance of the team being caught by surprise.

The extraction had gone smoothly. There was almost no resistance along their route to the mansion, save for a poor fellow who took a smoke break at the worst time. His poor judgment gave the strike team free reign over his news van, which made a simpler task out of climbing the wrought-iron fence that encased the perimeter of the property. Now all fifteen members were sprawled out within the thick tree line surrounding the property, holding their respective positions as they awaited their next move.

"Lancer Zero to Jasper One." Leon whispered into his headset microphone, "Report status."

"Lancer Zero, this is Jasper One." Jimmie replied, "Jasper Team is in position awaiting further orders."

"Copy that, Jasper One." Leon acknowledged, "Lancer Team is also in position, over." _Now what Victor_, Leon thought to himself. _What's this big surprise you have planned?_ Victor had kept mum on the exact details of the operation, for reasons which were unknown to both Leon and Jimmie. This placed Leon in a difficult position, for he was now in "wait-and-see" mode. Victor had decided to travel alone, presumably unarmed, long before the strike teams departed for Seattle. Sanders remained just as tight-lipped, telling Leon that he was not at liberty to discuss it. Lots of scenarios crept into Leon's mind as time passed. He started to worry if Victor was captured or killed along the way, leaving both teams to be sitting ducks, awaiting orders that would never come.

_What if she's right, _Leon asked himself, referring to the argument with Myra earlier that afternoon. Maybe Victor was nothing more than a scam artist, and everybody here had been duped into this for whatever reason. Either way, Leon's patience was wearing thin. Victor's guarded nature was getting on his nerves, if no other reason than that it felt unnecessary to Leon.

"Lancer One-Four to Lancer Zero." His headset crackled.

"Lancer Zero, read you loud and clear." Leon acknowledged. Lancer Two-Four was the call-sign for Derrick Elder, an inactive Hell's Angel who joined the movement under Victor's own tutelage. For a man of his background, he worked out surprisingly well as a member of Adam's squad.

"Lancer Zero, I have visual on Farmboy." Derek calmly replied, "I Repeat: visual confirmation, ballpark it fifty feet from Bullseye, bearing two-one-zero." The aforementioned "Bullseye" was a statue in the center of the mansion's courtyard. During the briefing, Leon selected the statue as a secret point to relay any locations to the team, in case anybody were to be listening to their communications.

"Copy that, One-Four." Leon responded as he saw Victor, then addressed his team, "Lancer Zero to Lancer Team: We have confirmed visual on Farmboy. Subject is concealed and stationary. Orders are to hold fire, repeat, _hold fire._" Leon clutched at his M4 and took a deep breath, priming his body into attack mode. Victor slowly exposed himself from his hiding spot and blended in with the large crowd, all of them engrossed in Bowyer's address. Victor appeared to be carrying a small megaphone behind his back as he sneaked to the back of the crowd. Though Leon was never briefed on it's purpose, he felt he had a fairly good idea.

"Excuse me, sir." The mayor abruptly interrupted himself, "You there, in the back. This area is currently off limits to the general populace. What is your business here?" Victor rose to his feet, facing the mayor with a blank stare and pulling the megaphone to the front of his body. _Okay Victor,_ Leon said to himself, _where are you going with this? _Victor remained silent despite Bowyer's continued attempts sway him. Instead, he pulled the megaphone to his mouth, and what happened next left the onlookers in dead silence.

"When in the course of human events," Victor spoke into the megaphone, "It becomes necessary of one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with one another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them. A decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident that _all_ are created equal! They are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness! In order to secure these rights governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the _consent of the governed_! That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the _right of the people_ to alter or abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there!" Bowyer suddenly interrupted Victor, "I don't know who you are or what you're hoping to accomplish here, but this is a private function, not a forum for rambling idiots or rambunctious attention-seekers. Now please leave before I call security!"

"You see us as a minor annoyance," Victor continued, "A nuisance to be swept away like yesterday's garbage, don't you Mayor? I tell you today that you couldn't be any further from the truth. For we represent your poor, we represent your tired, and we represent your huddled masses! We are the men and women that have been murdered in the streets by your foot soldiers! We are the unsuspecting souls, held unjustly as political prisoners by the blind paranoia of this false democracy! We are the people of this nation that yearn for a better tomorrow, and are willing to sacrifice anything and everything for this new beginning! _We... _are the Free People's Revolution Army, and we will stop at nothing until, at long last, we are free from tyranny, and the values of liberty and justice are once again restored!" The crowd held still in a state of shock as to what they had witnessed. Victor held firm his gaze at the mayor, his gaze growing more piercing as the eerie silence of the audience continued.

"Security," Bowyer spoke through his podium mic, "Please escort this man off of the premises immediately!" With that, a wave of suited men rushed to Victor, tackling him to the ground and removing his megaphone.

"Mercury to Lancer Zero." Sanders spoke through Leon's headset, "I've received a message from Farmboy." Sanders went on, "Initiate Strike Package 'Tea Party'. Repeat, we are go for 'Tea Party'."

"Lancer Zero to Lancer Team," Leon gave orders through his headset to his subordinates, "Engage all hostiles and protect Farmboy. Shoot to kill. I repeat: _shoot to kill_!"The whole team poured out from the tree line and sprung to action, spewing out bursts of gunfire at the security guards surrounding Victor. The unarmed onlookers all rushed inside the mansion, herded like sheep by Mayor Bowyer until it was just the guards and the assault team.

As the team closed in, the guards shifted their focus on the armed men, pulling handguns from their blazers and returning fire to the assault team. They all dropped like flies, but not without doing damage to Leon's team. Two member's of Adam's squad had taken superficial wounds, while one of Gary's men took a lethal blow to his sternum. With the guards all dead, the functional team members huddled around Victor, who was slow to get back on his feet after taking such a hard landing.

"Good work, Woods." Victor congratulated his lieutenant.

"You okay?" Leon asked.

"Just came down a bit hard." Victor reassured him, "Any word from Burke?"

"No, I'll chirp him." Leon said, then turned into his headset, "Lancer One to Jasper One. Report current status."

"Still quiet, Lancer One." Jimmie replied lazily, "Almost too quiet"

"Copy that." Leon acknowledged.

"Woods, come here." Victor motioned to Leon.

"Yes sir?" Leon addressed his superior.

"I have a favor to ask of you." Victor calmly spoke, "There's been a bit of a delay in communications between myself and Sanders. Apparently it took him about six seconds to receive my strike order, seconds which could have meant the death of your entire team. Since you have a direct line with Burke, I need you to relay my orders. We can't afford to lose anybody on account of poor coordination."

"Right on it Cage." Leon replied, "Lancer Zero to Jasper One. Please respond."

"Jasper One here." Jimmie's voice crackled through the receiver, "Go ahead."

"Jasper One," Leon began, "Lancer Team has secured Farmboy. Be advised that I've been given relay authority over Jasper Team."

"Relay authority acknowledged." Jimmie turned away from his headset and lit up a cigarette. Just like Leon's team, their extraction had gone well. They marched to their position unchallenged, and now awaited their own orders. However, he'd chosen to distribute his team in a manner far less uniform. They had all taken up scattered positions around the perimeter of Wallace House, due to the fact that they needed to be more creative in finding cover. Nevertheless, he remained in full combat mode. Judging from the exchange inside the gate, and he felt it wouldn't belong before they would face retaliation. His team kept a staggered position around the mansion. As for Jimmie and Emily, they alternated running patrols around the gate to continue watching for hostiles.

"Mercury to Jasper One." Sanders awakened Jimmie's radio, "Latest satellite pass shows hostiles inbound from the south, over."

"Copy that Mercury." Jimmie replied, then spoke to Emily, "Jasper Two, did you get that?"

"Gotcha, Jasper One." Emily acknowledged, "I am inbound."

"Jasper One to Sierra Squad." Jimmie ordered as he rushed southward, "Hostiles approaching on your immediate position. Prepare to engage!" Jimmie abandoned his patrol route and moved at a frantic pace, ignoring any possibility of being ambushed along the way. Once he arrived, he took cover behind an abandoned street sweeper, where another team member – Kory Lowell, to be exact – had already posted up.

"Jasper One, this is Sierra One." Jimmie's radio crackled with the voice of Tony LaFleur, the leader of Sierra Squad, "I have visual on inbounds. Marking position with infrared."

"Copy that, over." Jimmie pulled out a small infrared scope and scanned the area, stopping at a white dot glowing from the alcove of an abandoned schoolhouse. Barely visible, a small group of armor-clad men did their best to keep concealed. Without a doubt, they were Seattle Police Urban Combat Division troopers; UCTs for short. Specifically designed for close-quarters combat, the UCTs borrowed their tactics from SWAT teams, FBI-HRT, and even U.S. Army Delta Force.

"Jasper One to Sierra Squad," He whispered, "Visual on bandits confirmed. Don't move a fucking muscle until I say so, over."

"You okay, sir?" Kory whispered to Jimmie, who maintained his focus on the schoolhouse.

"Yeah, fuckin' peachy." Jimmie quipped, "Can't wait to kick some fascist ass." In unison, the UCTs at long last revealed themselves from cover. Jimmie counted about fifteen heads, all armed with short range sub-machine guns. Though outnumbered, Jimmie felt confident in the superior range and accuracy of their assault rifles.

"Hold your fire, guys." Jimmie whispered through the radio as the UCTs dispersed along the street, advancing on the south entrance of the property. He was waiting for them to close in on the steel entry gate before he gave the order, and right now they were playing into his hands. Once they reached a point about ten feet from the entrance, Jimmie knew it was the perfect time.

"Fill these oinkers full of holes!" Jimmie screamed into his headset, awakening his long-dormant subordinates into a volley of gunfire. As expected, their ambush caught the UCTs by surprise, for they clumsily scrambled their already dwindling numbers and took cover behind a catering truck positioned outside the gate. The two sides exchanged gunfire for nearly fifteen minutes, neither of them inflicting any significant losses on one another.

"Lancer Zero to Jasper One." Leon radioed Jimmie, "Mercury reports heavy advance of hostiles on foot from the south, as well as one S-P-D 'copter inbound on west flank of Lancer Team. Request assistance from Jasper, over!"

"Copy that, Lancer." Jimmie replied, then switched over to November Squad, "Jasper One to November One, proceed inside perimeter to assist Lancer Team. Be advised, bandit helicopter is inbound on Lancer's position, mission profile unknown. Echo and Whiskey, proceed to Sierra's position at south entrance on the double, 'cause shit's gonna get real tight over here!" Jimmie fired a short burst at the UCTs, in hopes of neutralizing a few more UCTs before their reinforcements arrived. Slowly but surely, the group of fifteen decreased to about six. As for Sierra Squad, their casualties amounted to only one man: Ezekiel Stroud, a convicted petty "criminal" who swore his allegiance after taking a bum rap, thus losing faith in the justice system. He took a mere flesh wound to his left shoulder, an injury that required a simple patch-and-fix job and a timeout from battle. Jimmie only hoped his luck wouldn't run out once the reinforcements arrived.

"Having fun?" a sudden voice came from behind Jimmie, nearly startling him out of position. It was Emily, who promptly joined Sierra Team in their exchange of gunfire.

"Jesus Emily," Jimmie scolded Emily, "You scared the piss outta me!"

"Oh, sorry about that." Emily replied apologetically.

"What took you so long?" He asked, "I was all the way on the north end when I buzzed you!"

"Had to take the scenic route around the other side." She calmly responded, "Bogeys were already posted up inside the schoolhouse once I turned the corner. I'm surprised they didn't catch me!"

"Well thank God you're alive." He took himself down a few notches, "Believe me, I feared the worst."

"Did you forget already?" She playfully replied, "I'm a SEAL, honey. When life gives us lemons, we toss 'em in our beers after debriefing!"

_My kind of woman, _he thought to himself. Even under fire, her wit was sharp enough to cut through the thickest of steel. That would now be put to the test as the new wave of UCTs dispersed around their comrades. Jimmie reached a head count of twenty-two before losing track, as the rush of enemies instantly took out two members of Sierra Squad. Jimmie emptied a full clip at the advancing wave, eliminating a half-dozen troops in his desperation. Upon running out of ammo, he ducked behind a bus stop bench to reload.

"These guys are kickin' our asses, man!" Kory fearfully commented on the situation, "They've got us at least five-to-one, we're screwed!"

"Apparently you don't know me yet!" Jimmie shouted at his subordinate, "Five-to-one ain't shit compared to last night, so keep your fucking head straight and focus, soldier!" Jimmie slapped a magazine into his rifle and sprayed another volley of rounds at the UCTs. This time around, though Jimmie only killed three of their men, it was enough to give them pause and stop their advance on Jasper team.

As loaded another clip, Echo and Whiskey squad finally appeared from opposing sides in unison, swallowing the UCT strike force in a sea of bullets. Their numbers were instantly reduced by nearly half, and the sudden attack disoriented them enough that it forced a retreat back to the schoolhouse on their part.

"Whiskey, Echo, you bastards came in the nick of time!" Jimmie thanked their respective squad leaders. Without reply, the members of both squads joined Sierra in combat. Whiskey team took cover space behind the catering truck, once occupied by the UCTs, while Echo kept a close proximity to the Sierras already engaged in combat. As for the UCTs, the cover of the schoolhouse made it difficult for all three squads go get a decent line-of-fire on the enemy.

"Lancer Zero to Jasper One," Leon chirped Jimmie's radio, "Request immediate backup. Bandit 'copter just dropped a squad of UCTs on us and we're pinned down inside the courtyard!"

"Roger that, Lancer Zero." Jimmie responded, then switched his radio channel, "Jasper One to Sierra One, proceed inside perimeter and assist Lancer Team!"

"Gotcha, sir." Tony obeyed the order, lobbing a grenade over the gate to disable the motor. With the contraption inoperable, his squad opened the entry gate with relative ease. Thanks to Leon's team continually harvesting his troops, coupled with Echo And Whiskey squads each taking their first casualties, Jimmie's forces outside the mansion were dwindling. The UCTs themselves – despite a couple more dead bodies at their feet – still held firm outside the schoolhouse.

'You gotta be shittin' me!" Jimmie cursed as another fifteen heads joined the UCT counterparts at the schoolhouse, "Do these guys ever give up?" Fearing another round of dead soldiers, Jimmie ordered Echo Squad to fall back behind the catering truck, joining Whiskey Squad. A stalemate between the two sides quickly ensued. Neither side was able to gain any significant ground or inflict losses. What now weighed on Jimmie was not whether his personnel would hold up, but how long it would take before his men ran out of ammunition. Jimmie himself had one spare clip left, and other team members were in a similar conundrum. With everyone in conservation mode, the opportunities for any decisive action were slim-to-none.

"Lancer Zero to Jasper One." Leon called on Jimmie once again.

"Quit asking me for troops, Leon!" Jimmie sharply replied, breaking their brevity code, "I'm pinned down, my team's almost out of ammo, and UCTs are coming at us in fucking swarms! There's no way in hell I can spare anyone else!"

"Per Farmboy," Leon continued, ignoring Jimmie's sour attitude, "Jasper Team is to fall back to XP and draw fire of hostiles."

"He's pullin' us out?" Jimmie voiced his displeasure, "He brings us all the way here only to puss out at the Eleventh Hour? Why the fuck did we come here in the first place? What was his big fuckin' idea, give some big speech then throw us all under the fuckin' bus? Some great leader he is! I swear I..."

"Jasper One!" Leon screamed, interrupting Jimmie, before continuing in a lighter tone, "Farmboy has initiated strike package 'Riot Act'. As of right now, you're the best one to carry it out."

"'Riot Act'?" Jimmie was taken aback, "Why would he...," Jimmie cut himself short as it dawned on him. "Riot Act" was a top-secret code phrase, known only to Victor's most trusted associates and used for one thing: to order an assassination on a high-profile figure. The order had never actually been given, not since Jimmie allied himself with the resistance, but it was one trump card that Victor had long kept close to his chest. Jimmie searched his mind long and thorough until at last arriving to a singular conclusion: Samuel Bowyer was Victor's intended target.

He fit each one of the prerequisites for "Riot Act", for he was one of the most reviled political leaders in the eyes of the local public. He was well known for taking bribes, aiding corrupt industrialists and organized criminals, and selling out his constituents. He was the frequent subject of numerous political scandals, and had been impeached a total of three times during his tenure in office. Due to his penchant for gaining support by way of monetary influence, all attempts to remove him from his position failed miserably.

It all made perfect sense. Why else would Victor bring this many people and such heavy firepower simply to antagonize the authorities? It brought Jimmie's mind at ease to know that he was no longer out of the loop, that the lives taken here today would serve a legitimate purpose. Under the cover of battle, he quietly made way inside the entrance to Wallace House's landscape, setting up behind a bush close to the south wall of the mansion. Here he would lie in wait for his victim.

"Jasper One to Jasper Two." He radioed Emily to inform her of the situation, whispering to avoid detection.

"Jasper One, where the fuck are you?" Emily chastised Jimmie, "We just lost another guy from Whiskey, three guys are out of bullets, and their commander is nowhere to be found! With all due respect, you better have a good explanation for abandoning the front line, marine!"

"There's something I need to take care of." He explained, shrugging off Emily's harsh tone, "As of right now, you have full authority of Jasper Team. Farmboy has ordered everyone to fall back to XP. I know it sounds crazy, but I'll explain later."

"Jimmie, this is insane! How are we supp...," Jimmie squelched the channel. It killed him to give the cold-shoulder to a subordinate – especially his second-in-command - but it had to be done. To the best of his knowledge, Emily was never briefed on "Riot Act". The time required to explain it's ramifications would do nothing but waste valuable time. He only prayed that she would understand his reasons, and not get herself killed before he had the opportunity to defend such a difficult decision.

Jimmie waited for the sound of gunfire to wane back toward the east, leaving an eerie silence in it's wake. Hearing faint conversation, he peeked around the corner to the rear of the mansion. Two men in black suits frantically escorted the mayor to a shiny black limo huddled within the motor pool of the mansion. His window of opportunity had arrived. He carefully concealed his assault rifle, placing the barrel around the corner and steadying his aim just ahead of the mayor's cranium. During his time in the Corps, it was often necessary to eliminate moving targets, and here his training would be put to the ultimate test. For years Jimmie yearned to see the day Bowyer finally took a bullet to the head, but he never realized he would have the opportunity to do it himself. He relished in the honor.

It was time. There would be no turning back from this point.

As Mayor Bowyer came within reaching distance of the back door, Jimmie took a deep breath, steadied his aim one last time...

...And squeezed the trigger.

* * *

_Author's Note: Longest chapter yet at 15,000+ words. Sorry it took so long to post, but work's been hectic. As always, reviews are appreciated and encouraged._


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